The morning sun crept lazily through the mansion's tall windows, brushing the marble floors with gold. Mia had woken before dawn, tying her hair in a loose bun as she prepared breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, and black coffee—the only meal Aiden ever seemed to tolerate these days.
She balanced the tray carefully and headed toward his room.
"Rise and shine, Mr. Lawrence," she called softly as she pushed the door open.
To her surprise, Aiden was already awake, seated neatly in his wheelchair, his damp hair proof he'd showered himself.
"Oh—you're up already," she said, smiling a little. "And I see you've already taken a shower."
He didn't answer. His eyes flicked briefly toward her, cold and unreadable, before turning away. The memory of her laughing outside with Phillip last night flashed through his mind, souring his mood instantly.
He grunted and wheeled himself toward the door.
Mia sighed under her breath. "What a grumpy old man," she muttered before hurrying after him.
Together they took the elevator down to the dining room. The butler was already setting the table when they arrived. Mia set the tray down, the scent of her cooking filling the air, but Aiden didn't even glance at it.
"Get me a coffee," he said curtly to the butler.
"Yes, sir."
Mia frowned, trying to keep her voice calm. "You're not even going to taste the food? You haven't eaten properly in days."
Aiden ignored her completely, flipping open a folder of documents. The sound of papers rustling filled the awkward silence.
He'd been cooped up in the mansion too long, she thought. He needed to return to work, to distract himself—but saying that out loud would only make him colder.
The butler returned with his coffee. Aiden took a long sip, eyes fixed on the papers in front of him. He acted like she wasn't even there.
Mia fidgeted, chewing her lip. Finally, she whispered, "I'm sorry… about what happened yesterday."
He didn't look up.
"Are you still mad about it?" she pressed gently. "I promise I didn't push Mila. It wasn't my fault."
Aiden's hand stilled. "Where did you go yesterday?" he asked suddenly.
Mia froze. Her pulse quickened. She couldn't tell him the truth—not about her mother, not about the hospital. He'd think she was lying again, trying to earn his sympathy.
"I… went for a walk," she said quickly, forcing a small smile.
Aiden's gray eyes lifted from the papers, piercing through her. For a long, tense moment, he just stared—silent, searching, almost as if he could see through her words.
Then, finally, he grunted. "Hmm."
The sound was low, unreadable.
Moments later, his bodyguard entered. "Sir, the car is ready."
Without another glance at Mia, Aiden nodded, allowing himself to be wheeled toward the door. The chauffeur helped him into the car, and the black sedan rolled down the driveway, leaving Mia standing alone in the dining room, staring at the half-finished breakfast she'd made just for him.
She sighed quietly, pressing a hand to her chest.
He's angry… but why does it hurt this much?