The doorbell rang—and the air inside Seacliff Heights shifted, as if something unseen had lightly stirred the surface of the night.
A servant hurried to the entrance, visibly surprised. This district had elite security. Visitors either came with appointments or were cleared personally by the owner.
A child showing up at the front door?
That wasn't normal.
"Hello," a clear, youthful voice said politely. "Is Mr. Hawke at home?"
Sebastian Hawke, on his way to the dining room, paused mid-step.
He didn't know why the words made him stop—only that they did.
The servant turned back toward him, uncertain. "Sir… it's a child. He says he's here to see you."
Sebastian walked to the doorway, gaze passing over the servant's shoulder.
A boy stood outside.
Five or six years old. Neatly dressed in denim overalls over a white shirt, a small backpack on his shoulders. His face was almost impossibly delicate—soft features like something carved from porcelain.
But his eyes were not childish.
They were bright. Calm. Observant.
And beautiful—peach-blossom eyes that looked striking even when he wasn't smiling.
When he saw Sebastian, the boy offered a courteous smile and a small nod.
"Good evening, Mr. Hawke."
Sebastian lifted a hand and dismissed the servant.
Then he looked down at the boy.
"You're looking for me?"
"Yes," the boy answered at once.
Sebastian's expression remained neutral. "Who brought you here?"
"I came by myself," the boy said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.
Sebastian didn't respond immediately.
Seacliff Heights wasn't a place a random child could simply walk into. That meant one of two things: someone had let him through… or this child wasn't as simple as he looked.
The boy seemed to catch the suspicion in Sebastian's silence. He blinked innocently and added:
"I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here to find my mommy."
Sebastian's eyes flickered. "Your mother?"
"Yes." The boy nodded. His voice stayed soft, but his words were precise. "My mommy's name is Emily Chu."
The name landed like a cold nail driven cleanly into Sebastian's nerves.
His gaze sharpened—just for an instant.
The boy, unfazed, shrugged off his backpack, pulled out an iPad, and tapped quickly with practiced ease.
Then he held it out.
"This is my mommy."
Sebastian took the device and looked at the screen.
The photo displayed a woman with clear features and a faint, restrained smile.
It was her.
The woman upstairs.
The one he had confined.
Sebastian's fingers paused at the edge of the tablet.
She… had a child?
That fact hit harder than the missing tattoo had.
He had told himself that the absence of the mark could mean anything—removal, disguise, misdirection.
But a child?
A child this age?
That should have been the cleanest proof.
Sebastian lifted his gaze. "She's your mother?"
The boy nodded emphatically, almost proud. "Yes, Mr. Hawke. Absolutely."
Sebastian's voice stayed even. "How do you know she's here?"
The boy pulled something from his pocket and opened his palm.
A small diamond-shaped badge.
Metallic. Clean. Marked with the Hawke family crest.
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "Where did you get that?"
"I found it," the boy said with a sweet smile.
Sebastian did not smile back. "And you knew it belonged to my people?"
The boy blinked. "Everyone in Hong Kong knows. Your men always have these. On their clothes, their cars, their things."
The statement was light.
But the implications were not.
This child didn't just notice details.
He collected them.
Sebastian handed the iPad back and took the badge, tone calm.
"This does belong to me. But your mother isn't here."
The boy's face fell instantly.
Those pretty eyes filled with disappointment as his lips puckered like he might cry on command.
"Mr. Hawke," he said softly, "you've always been my idol."
Sebastian: "…"
The boy continued, voice wounded. "How can an idol lie to a child?"
Sebastian stared at him.
The speed of the emotional shift was impressive.
The boy was using his own cuteness like a weapon—deploying it with perfect timing.
Sebastian, surprisingly, felt a flicker of interest.
"Why are you so sure she's here?"
The boy lifted his wrist and displayed a children's smartwatch.
"Because of this."
He turned the screen outward like a mini presentation.
"My watch is linked to my mommy's phone. Look—this shows she's right here."
A red dot rested squarely on Seacliff Heights.
The precision left no space to argue.
Sebastian's lips curved almost imperceptibly.
He was being cornered—by a six-year-old.
"Come in," he said, stepping aside.
The boy's face brightened instantly. The "almost-crying" expression vanished like a switch had flipped.
"Thank you, Mr. Hawke!"
He slipped inside at a small run.
Sebastian watched him for a moment, thoughtful.
The child's calmness didn't feel learned from ordinary parenting.
It felt like someone who had grown up near storms.
In the living room, the boy looked around quickly. No sign of his mother.
He turned back to Sebastian.
"Mr. Hawke, where is my mommy?"
"Upstairs," Sebastian said. "I'll have someone bring her down."
He called a servant and sent her to the third-floor master bedroom.
Upstairs, Emily Chu was pacing like a trapped animal, forcing herself to think through every possibility of escape.
The guards outside the door were motionless. Impassive.
She had no phone. No documents. No clear exit.
When the servant knocked and entered, Emily turned sharply.
"Miss Emily," the servant said carefully, "Mr. Hawke asks you to come downstairs."
Emily's stomach tightened.
"What now?"
The servant lowered her gaze. "There is… a guest."
A guest?
Who would come here?
Emily followed the servant down, suspicion building with each step.
Halfway down the staircase—
A small figure launched forward like a tiny projectile.
"Mommy!"
Emily's heart stopped.
She looked down and saw a familiar head of hair, familiar eyes, familiar arms wrapping tightly around her.
"Bean?!"
She barely managed to breathe the name.
She dropped into a hug instantly, holding him with fierce relief.
"How are you here? How did you—"
Then instinct kicked in.
She straightened and pulled him behind her like a shield.
Her gaze snapped to Sebastian across the room.
"Sebastian Hawke!" she demanded, fury sharp. "Did you take my son too?!"
Sebastian stood in silence, expression unreadable.
Emily's anger surged.
She was about to step forward—
When Bean tugged gently on her sleeve.
"Mommy," he whispered, "he didn't take me. I came here myself."
Emily blinked, startled. "You… came by yourself?"
Bean nodded proudly and raised his wrist.
"I followed the location on my watch."
Emily frowned hard. "You came out alone? Does Aunt Sophie know?"
"She does," Bean said quickly. "I left her a note. And I put my small alarm at the door. She'll find it when she wakes up."
Emily's breath caught.
Half exasperation, half relief.
"You're going to scare her to death," she murmured, tapping his forehead lightly.
Bean grinned. "But I was more worried about you."
The words struck deeper than Emily expected.
She hugged him again, tighter.
"I'm fine," she said softly. "I'm okay."
A low voice cut in.
"Your son?"
Emily looked up, eyes sharp. "Obviously."
Sebastian's gaze did not leave the boy. "Biological?"
Emily scoffed. "Do you need a certificate?"
Bean wrapped his arms around Emily's neck and pressed his cheek against hers, smiling at Sebastian with bright innocence.
"Mr. Hawke, no need to doubt it. My mommy looks young, but I really am her son. One hundred percent authentic."
Sebastian's brows drew together slightly.
Emily looked no older than twenty-one or twenty-two.
And yet the boy was five… six.
Meaning—
She would have had to give birth incredibly young.
Or—
The story was more complicated than it looked.
Emily didn't care what Sebastian was thinking. She grabbed Bean's hand and stood.
"Mr. Hawke," she said firmly, "now you believe me. I'm not the woman you're looking for."
Sebastian didn't answer.
He kept looking at Bean.
At the boy's eyes.
Those peach-blossom eyes.
Uncomfortably familiar.
Emily pressed on. "Can we leave now?"
Bean looked up too, polite and hopeful.
"Mr. Hawke, can I go home with my mommy?"
Silence stretched.
Sebastian's fingers shifted at his cuff, a small movement like a final calculation.
At last, he lifted his hand.
"Marcus Reed," he ordered coldly, "escort them out."
Emily froze—almost not believing she'd heard him correctly.
Bean squeezed her hand.
Sebastian turned and walked upstairs without another word.
His back was straight.
Untouchable.
Cold as stone.
But just before he stepped onto the first stair—
He glanced at Bean once more.
Brief.
Sharp.
As if burning the boy's outline into his mind.
Outside, the night air was cold.
Marcus escorted them personally, respectful but distant.
Emily walked fast, afraid Sebastian would change his mind.
Only when the car door closed behind them did she finally exhale.
Bean leaned into her side.
"Mommy," he asked softly, "why did that man take you?"
Emily stared out the window at the retreating lights.
"He mistook me for someone else."
Bean didn't look convinced.
His small face remained calm, serious.
"Mommy," he said quietly, "his eyes didn't look like a mistake."
Emily's fingers tightened around his.
Her heart skipped.
But she forced a smile.
"Don't overthink it."
Bean didn't argue.
He simply held her hand harder.
Back at Seacliff Heights, on the third floor, Sebastian stood before the floor-to-ceiling window.
The ocean below churned against jagged rocks.
Marcus returned and bowed slightly.
"They have been escorted away."
Sebastian didn't turn.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, quietly:
"Investigate."
Marcus went still. "Investigate what, sir?"
Sebastian's voice lowered, each word deliberate.
"Emily Chu. Everything."
"Her past."
"Her movements in the United States."
"Any record of the child's birth."
"And—"
He paused, as if tasting an old wound.
"Every entry and exit record linked to Las Vegas that night seven years ago."
Marcus answered at once. "Understood."
Sebastian reached for the silver angel mask.
His thumb traced the worn edge.
He had told himself marriage and a child should end the question.
Should erase the possibility.
Yet—
That boy's eyes…
They looked too much like his.
Sebastian's gaze darkened.
"KG…"
He murmured the codename, almost like a curse.
"What trick did you play?"
Outside, the waves slammed harder against the cliffs.
Like a warning.
Like the start of something far worse.
Because the hunt—
Was not over.
Not even close.