That's unnecessary."
"It's already done." she stated her voice reflecting it wasn't up for discussion.
Liam's jaw tightened, but he said nothing more. The tension between them hung, taut and invisible, until he finally stood and left the table without touching his food.
Milan watched him go, her expression unreadable — only her fingers betrayed her, clenching too hard against the porcelain cup until a faint crack sounded.
Dario arrived soon after and find his way to the study, his broad shoulder, clean-cut, the kind of man who knew how to move quietly in dangerous circles. Milan greeted him with a calm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Ryan made a move yesterday," she said simply. "I want to know how deep he's reaching." Dario nodded, flipping open his tablet.
"He's been meeting with buyers from the southern ports — trying to re-route the supply chain under your name. It's subtle, but deliberate."
Milan leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, the morning light glinting off the silver ring at her finger.
"Then we'll make it deliberate too," she said softly. "I want his new alliances dismantled. Quietly. One by one."
Her gaze drifted to the window — beyond the garden, the faint figure of Liam walking toward the stables.
Something in her chest twisted. The memory of his silence. The ache of it. She looked away quickly.
"And Dario…"
"Yes, Signora?"
"Make sure Ryan hears nothing of this until it's too late.The study door closed behind Dario with the faintest click — the kind of silence that lingered longer than it sounded.
Milan didn't move for a while. Her gaze was fixed on the window, where the sunlight stream in through the balcony veil across the glass. Below, in the courtyard garden, Liam sat on the low stone bench beside the pond. His shoulders were slightly hunched, his small hands tracing patterns into the dust between his shoes. His back portray's how he was.
For a long moment, she simply watched him. The wind carried the scent of the roses she once loved as a girl — back before her name was whispered with both fear and respect. It hit her then, the irony: she could command men to move cities, force empires to shift hands, but she couldn't make her own son look her in the eye.
Her fingers curled over the edge of the desk. A slow, measured breath. Then another.
She could hear Dario's voice in her head, the respectful distance, "Signora, your control is your greatest weapon."
But this wasn't control she wanted. This was loss. Without another thought, she left the study and went down to the level floor. In the kitchen, the servants straightened immediately when she entered. The morning bustle faltered.
"You can all continue," Milan said softly. "I'll handle this myself."
They exchanged confused glances but obeyed. She took a small tray — a bowl of fresh fruit, a plate of bread, and a cup of cocoa that Liam had refused at breakfast.
It was ridiculous, she thought, trying to balance the tray herself. The great Lady Vanquez, once the most feared name in the underworld's boardrooms, reduced to carrying peace offerings to a seven-year-old.
Still, she walked through the corridors, each step slow and deliberate, until she reached the garden doors. The air outside was cool, scented faintly with wet grass. Liam didn't look up when she approached.
He was building something — sticks and stones, the scattered creativity of a child who didn't know what else to do with his loneliness.
"You didn't eat," she said quietly, setting the tray beside him.
"Wasn't hungry." He replied curtly, as if talking to a stranger. His tone wasn't defiant. Just small.
She lowered herself to the stone bench beside him, careful not to intrude on the small world he'd built. For a few seconds, she said nothing. The city noise was distant; only the fountain broke the quiet.
"You scared me yesterday," she said finally. "Running off like that."
"You were busy."
The words were soft, but they cut sharper than she expected.
She turned to look at him — his dark hair catching the light, the same shade as Ryan's. But his eyes… those were hers. Sharp. Intelligent. And right now, distant.
"Liam," she said, trying to steady her voice. "I wasn't angry. I was worried."
He shrugged. "I just wanted to see him."
Her chest tightened. "Your father?"
He nodded, still not meeting her gaze. "He's not what I thought."
"No," she said softly. "He isn't."
Silence settled again. She wanted to tell him everything — about betrayal, survival, the cold necessity of walking away. But he was only seven. What could he understand of empires and vengeance?
Instead, she reached out, brushing a leaf from his shoulder. He flinched — just slightly — but didn't move away.
"Liam," she whispered, "I know this place feels strange. I know I do too sometimes. But you're not alone here."
For a heartbeat, she thought he wouldn't answer. Then, quietly —he said , "You left him."
Her hand froze, a small quiver passed through before she withdrew them.
"I did," she admitted. "Because I had to Liam. Because he took everything that was mine and left me with nothing but you."
Liam turned towards her, and finally met her eyes. She could see his confusion there, hurt, and something she recognized all too well: restraint.
"You gave him everything?" he asked, repeating the words he possibly couldn't understand but must have overheard somewhere.
She almost smiled — almost. "Yes," she said softly. "And I intend to take it back."
His brows furrowed slightly, the way Ryan's used to when he was thinking too hard. But there was no fear in his face. Only curiosity. And for the first time since they landed, he looked at her as if he was trying to see her — not the businesswoman, not the Vanquez heiress, just his mother.
She exhaled slowly. "Come on," she said, rising and extending a hand. "Get dressed. We're going out."
" Where?" Liam asked her reluctantly.
" Shopping," she stated simply looking at his facial expression.
Liam shook his head, "You don't like shopping mummy."
" Who says I don't, I just rarely have time for it."
He was skeptical about what his Mom uttered, "Really mom!"
" Yes! Now go change before I change my mind."
Liam hurried off to his room, smiling brightly. Looking very excited
Phew...The fog is finally over, Milan breathe a sigh of relief.
The car roared smoothly through the city. It's tinted windows keeping the outside world at bay. Liam sat beside her, his small fingers tracing the line of the window, watching the blur of streets and towers.
This was her world — glass, steel, power hidden in plain sight. But through his eyes, it looked different: Vibrant.
"Where are we going after shopping?" he asked again.
"I don't know," she said simply. " maybe lunch."
He frowned, "ohh," he muttered.
Noticing the change in his mood, "You wants Mummy and Liam day out?" Milan asked.
" Not really," he uttered his head slightly bent.
Placing her head on the back rest of the car closing her eyes, " Well if you say so....." She said, quietly sneaking a peep at him.
"But...if you want that, I might consider it—if you give Mommy a peck," she said slow yet deliberate.
Liam face lifted up immediately and looked at her eagerly, "Really mom?"
" Really." Milan confirmed.
" Liam took a sneak look at the driver before quickly pecking her —and hurriedly tried scoot over, but Milan reflexes where accurate, held him and pecked him all over his adorable face. Laughter and pecking sound filled the car.
Antonio blushed , feeling relieved that the mother and son are now in good terms.
The car slowed down near the central district — a place built for wealth and whispers. Boutique windows gleamed like polished jewels. When they stepped out, the city seemed to pause — just slightly — as if recognizing her. Heads turned. Cameras lowered discreetly. Milan Vanquez was not a woman who moved unnoticed.
But she ignored them all, letting Liam's small hand rest in hers as they entered the first store.