As soon as Old Mr. Reed left, the room fell into a heavy silence. Lucian's sharp gaze was like a blade, slicing straight through Mia.
She shifted, suddenly uneasy—then felt a small, soft hand slip into hers.
Emmett was clutching her fingers with all his strength.
Mia instinctively crouched down to his level. In the next second, that warm little body threw itself into her arms, thin arms looping around her neck.
"Don't be scared, Mommy," he said solemnly. "I'll protect you."
Mia's whole body stiffened.
In all these years, no child had ever clung to her like this. Her first instinct was to push him away, but when she saw the attachment in his big dark eyes, she couldn't do it.
She let him hold on.
"Th… thank you," she murmured.
She drew a breath, picked Emmett up and stood. "I'll take him for a bath."
Lucian sat propped against the headboard, listening to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. For some reason, irritation clawed at his chest, a restless agitation he couldn't quite name.
He pulled a cigarette from the pack, then remembered Emmett and forced himself to put it back. Reaching for his phone instead, he dialed a familiar number.
"Ethan," he said when the call connected. "It's me."
On the other end, the man practically whooped. "Lucian? You're really awake? I just heard the news—I thought they were messing with me!"
"Notify the Shadow Division," Lucian ordered. "Restart every project we put on hold."
"We've been waiting for you to say that," Ethan Ye said, excitement crackling in his tone. Then his voice shifted, turning more serious. "By the way, I checked into it. Before you fell ill, your second uncle made a quiet trip to the Healers' Valley. After that… nothing. Whatever happened there, the trail's completely wiped."
Cold light flickered in Lucian's deep eyes.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "Now that I'm awake, those ghosts and monsters won't be able to hide for long."
"As long as you know what you're doing." Ethan paused, then added, "One more thing. Your new wife is not simple. On paper, she's the mastermind behind that big investment fraud case five years ago—the one that shook the whole city. I honestly thought she'd spend the rest of her life in prison. Never would've guessed she'd turn around and marry you. Mrs. Reed now. That's… impressive."
"She's not my wife," Lucian said flatly. "I'm going to divorce her."
Ethan let out a breath of obvious relief. "That's good to hear. Vera's been waiting for you all these years, you know—"
Lucian ended the call without a word.
He stared at the darkened screen, thinking about what Ethan had just said.
Five years ago, the so-called mastermind behind the financing scandal. A convicted criminal.
And now that same woman was calmly sitting by his bed.
Interesting.
…
In the bathroom, Emmett stood on a little stool like a miniature adult and said very seriously, "Mommy, you have to turn around. You can't watch boys take a bath, okay?"
"Okay," Mia said, lips twitching.
She turned her back to him. "Be careful getting into the tub," she reminded. "Slowly."
Emmett was an unusually independent child. After his bath, he wriggled into a pair of little yellow-duck underwear and then tugged one of his dad's oversized T-shirts over his head.
There were no children's pajamas in the master bedroom, and the door was locked from the outside. Mia could only rummage through Lucian's closet until she found a soft T-shirt.
It was Emmett's first time wearing his father's clothes. The hem hung all the way down to his ankles. He kept playing with the sleeves, clearly delighted.
Watching him hop around in the too-big T-shirt, Mia's heart clenched in a mix of worry and amusement. If he fell and started crying, it would be a problem—especially when he was the Reed family's little prince.
"I'll carry you out," she suggested.
Emmett tipped his small face up at her, expression solemn and determined.
"I can walk by myself," he said. "I'm heavy. You'll get tired, Mommy."
This child was almost painfully considerate.
Mia's expression softened. Her hand rose, almost of its own accord, to ruffle his hair.
"So sweet," she murmured.
Emmett slapped a hand over the spot she'd touched, joy bubbling up so hard he nearly bounced.
Mommy had patted him.
Mommy loved him. He knew it.
When they stepped out of the bathroom, Lucian glanced once at the boy in his T-shirt but didn't comment. Mia exhaled quietly.
For one absurd moment, she found herself missing the version of him she'd first married—the silent, unresponsive "vegetable" who never glared at her, never questioned her, never radiated this crushing pressure with every look.
After her own shower, Mia changed into long-sleeved pajamas, carefully checking that she was covered from neck to ankle before leaving the bathroom.
She grabbed a pillow and carried it to the sofa.
"I'll sleep over here," she said. "If you feel uncomfortable during the night, call me."
Lucian hadn't even had time to nod before Emmett darted across the room, snatched the pillow out of her hands, and tugged on her wrist.
"Daddy, Mommy sleeps with us," he insisted.
"No." Lucian refused without a second's hesitation.
When he'd been in a coma, he'd had no control over who came near him.
Now that he was awake, there was no way he was sharing a bed with a woman whose background was a question mark.
"It's yes," Emmett insisted, eyes going red. "Mommy and Daddy have to sleep together."
His small shoulders shook.
"I knew it," he sniffed. "Daddy doesn't love me. You think I'm just your main account that you messed up, and now you want to start over with a brand-new baby account!"
He sucked in a dramatic breath.
"I don't have a home anymore! I knew it—I'm a child my daddy doesn't love!"
Lucian stared at his wailing son, headache pounding behind his eyes.
"Stop crying," he said sharply.
Emmett's sobs only got louder, echoing off the walls, threatening to bring the ceiling down.
Lucian rubbed his temples, defeated.
"Fine," he bit out. "But you"—his gaze cut to Mia, hard and warning—"are not sleeping in the middle. Stay away from me."
"…"
Relax, Mia thought sourly. It's not like you're made of gold and I'm dying to cuddle you.
She didn't bother to argue. She simply let Emmett drag her over and slid under the covers.
The little boy curled into her arms without hesitation, like he'd been doing it his entire life. Looking down at his soft hair and trusting eyes, Mia's emotions twisted into something complicated and tight.
"Sleep," she murmured, stroking his head.
Emmett's big, black-and-white eyes stayed wide open, sleep nowhere in sight.
After a while, Mia hesitated.
"Do you want a story?" she offered. "Snow White?"
Lucian snorted softly.
Emmett was a genius child. He'd been rolling his eyes at fairy tales since he was one.
But then that milky voice piped up.
"Yes," he said. "Snow White… and the Frog Prince too, Mommy."
"…Okay," Mia said.
She began to tell the stories, her voice low and gentle.
"Once upon a time, there was a king…"
She told Snow White. Then the Frog Prince. Then both again.
After three full rounds, Emmett finally started to droop.
Mia patted his small back in a slow rhythm, her voice soft as clouds drifting across the sky.
"Sleep," she whispered.
"Mommy…"
Emmett mumbled the word in his dreams and sank fully into sleep.
Mia watched his peaceful, chubby face and couldn't stop herself from thinking of the two boys she hadn't seen in five years. If they were with her now, they would be about this size. They would probably be just as cute.
A fierce ache rose in her chest, thick and suffocating.
Before she could stop herself, she leaned down and pressed a light kiss to Emmett's forehead.
A cold voice cut through the quiet.
"Tell me—what do you want?"
Mia's head snapped up.
Her gaze crashed straight into Lucian's, dark and glacial. Any trace of drowsiness vanished.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You let them marry you to me while I was in a coma." His tone was almost lazy, but every word dripped with threat. "You've charmed my grandfather, won over my son. You're quite capable, Miss Stone."
He smiled without warmth.
"Here's a reminder. Anyone who tries to play games with me—man or woman—ends up in a grave."
The words were almost tender, like a lover's murmur.
They chilled her to the bone.
Mia drew in a steady breath.
"Believe it or not," she said quietly, "I was just as unwilling as you were to be chosen as your 'lucky bride.' If I had any real choice, I would never have stepped into this house, much less become your wife."
"Tomorrow," Lucian said, "you're coming with me to file for divorce."
"I won't." Mia's answer was immediate, firm. "I'm not divorcing you."