By the time the car stopped in front of Sophie Shen's apartment building, Emily Chu's palms were still damp with sweat.
She looked back once—at the black executive vehicle.
The tinted windows revealed nothing. No emotion. No explanation. Just a cold, silent machine that had delivered her out of a seaside nightmare and back into ordinary life.
Ordinary life.
A child. A friend. A home.
And a mess called seven years ago that she couldn't even remember.
"Mommy, we're home." Bean hopped out first, as brisk and capable as a tiny grown-up. He even remembered to turn and nod politely to the driver.
"Thank you for bringing us back, Uncle Marcus."
Marcus Reed's face remained stern as ever, but he gave the slightest nod in return.
Emily watched the exchange, feeling an absurd kind of disbelief.
She had been abducted. Confined. Threatened.
And yet here her son was, calmly collecting goodwill points from the man who worked for the person responsible.
"Bean," Emily murmured as they walked toward the entrance, "you don't have to be so polite to them."
Bean blinked at her, entirely serious.
"Mommy, being polite doesn't mean I like them. Politeness is a strategic resource."
Emily: "…"
For a terrifying moment, she wondered if she had raised a child… or a miniature CEO.
They entered the building lobby. Bright lights. People coming and going. Normality pressed in around her, and for the first time that night, she felt the ground truly under her feet.
The elevator doors closed.
Bean immediately reached for her suitcase handle and then took her shoulder bag as well, slipping it onto his own shoulder with practiced ease.
"Mommy worked hard," he announced. "Give me the luggage and the bag."
Emily instinctively wanted to refuse—he was too small, and it wasn't right.
But Bean looked so determined, so naturally capable, that her resistance faded.
It was as if he had done this a thousand times.
He pushed the suitcase forward a step, then glanced back, lowering his voice into something almost conspiratorial.
"Mommy… is the shirt you're wearing Daddy's?"
Emily nearly jumped out of her skin.
She snapped her head around and checked behind them as if the black car might still be there, or someone might be listening.
The hallway was empty.
Only the elevator's mirrored wall reflected her startled face.
She let out a slow breath.
"Bean," she hissed, "don't say things like that!"
Bean grinned mischievously and winked.
"Mommy, Uncle Marcus's car already left. You don't need to worry."
Emily stared at him.
"You were checking whether his car left?"
Bean nodded, as if that were obvious.
"Of course. Mommy's safety comes first."
Emily pressed a hand to her temple.
She looked down at the shirt again.
It was definitely a man's shirt. Definitely too large. Definitely wrinkled to death—because she had slept in it all night.
"I'm changing as soon as we get inside," she muttered through clenched teeth.
The elevator rose floor by floor.
In the quiet, Bean's voice softened, and the mischief drained away.
"Mommy," he asked, "you really don't remember Daddy at all?"
Emily froze.
She looked at her reflection in the elevator mirror—the tired eyes, the faint tension in her jaw—and slowly shook her head.
"No. Nothing."
Bean frowned slightly, thinking.
"Then what did he ask you? He looked like he didn't even know I existed."
Emily's irritation flared again at the memory of Sebastian Hawke's cold eyes.
"He forced me to admit I was someone named Sherry," she said, rubbing her forehead. "He kept talking about Las Vegas. As if I could confess to a life I don't remember. He's… obsessive."
Bean repeated the key word quietly, as though tasting it.
"Las Vegas…"
Then, as if a lightbulb had switched on above his head, he looked up with bright excitement.
"Mommy, maybe I was made there!"
Emily nearly choked on air.
"Bean! Don't talk nonsense!"
Bean looked offended.
"I'm not talking nonsense. I'm forming a reasonable hypothesis."
Emily immediately waved both hands.
"No. Impossible. I've never been to Las Vegas."
Bean didn't push. He simply smiled sweetly and pivoted like a professional negotiator.
"Okay, okay. If Mommy says no, then no."
Then he tilted his head and leaned in again, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"But… you spent a whole day and night with Daddy. What did you think of him?"
Emily's complaint reservoir burst open instantly.
"Terrible. Completely terrible. He's moody, controlling, irrational, and—"
She jabbed a finger toward the air as if Sebastian were standing there.
"And for a grown man, he's way too pretty. The kind of face that attracts endless trouble."
Bean cleared his throat politely.
"Mommy… Daddy has zero scandals. Like, none."
Emily's words stuck in her throat.
She almost blurted out That doesn't mean he isn't a disaster, but her mind flashed to the woman downstairs—his fiancée.
Her expression tightened.
"Zero scandals doesn't mean zero chaos," she said firmly. "He has a fiancée. He'll probably get married soon."
Then she looked Bean straight in the eyes, suddenly serious, like she was teaching him the most important rule in the universe.
"Bean, men like that are not for us. Do you understand?"
Bean blinked.
He understood what she meant beneath the words.
She wasn't just rejecting Sebastian.
She was afraid.
Afraid of losing the life she had built.
Afraid of losing her child.
Bean's small hand tightened on the suitcase handle.
He nodded solemnly.
"As you command, my Queen."
Emily couldn't help it—she laughed, even as something in her chest stung.
The elevator chimed.
They stepped out onto the floor.
Bean pushed the suitcase toward Sophie's apartment.
At that exact moment, Mrs. Li from across the hall stepped out with a grocery basket and stared in surprise.
"Bean," she asked curiously, "who is this?"
Bean immediately straightened, smiling with flawless manners. He even bowed slightly like a tiny gentleman.
"Hello, Mrs. Li. This is my mommy."
"Oh!" Mrs. Li's eyes widened.
Then she noticed Bean pushing a suitcase and carrying a bag while Emily's hands were empty.
Her face tightened into disapproval.
"Miss, Bean is so little. How can you let him carry all of that?"
Emily instantly felt like the evil stepmother in a fairy tale.
Before she could explain, Bean spoke up with calm authority.
"Mrs. Li, I insisted. I promised Mommy that as long as I'm here, she is the Queen. She doesn't have to do anything."
Mrs. Li stared, stunned.
Emily's pride flared. She bent down and kissed Bean's soft cheek.
"Good boy."
Bean's ears turned faintly pink, but he maintained his composed expression.
"Mrs. Li, we're going home now. Goodbye."
"G-goodbye…" Mrs. Li managed, still looking like her brain had crashed.
As the door closed behind them, Mrs. Li stood in the hallway thinking bitterly: why did her teenage son act like a feral raccoon when other people's six-year-olds acted like perfect princes?
Inside, the apartment was quiet.
Sophie was still at work.
Emily locked the door and leaned against it, exhaling as if she had been underwater for hours.
Bean set down the suitcase immediately and poured her a cup of hot water, placing it in her hands like a ritual.
Then he opened the luggage, dug out a clean set of clothes, and handed them to her.
"Mommy, take a shower first. I'll order food. What do you want?"
Emily thought for a second.
"Mixed pizza."
"Confirmed," Bean said instantly. "No olives, less onion, extra cheese, correct?"
Emily stared at him.
"When did you memorize that?"
Bean looked up innocently.
"It's within my responsibilities."
Emily went into the bathroom.
Warm water poured over her shoulders, but it didn't wash away the images.
The mask.
The ocean outside the villa.
The coldness in Sebastian's eyes.
And worst of all—
The moment he said his name.
Sebastian Hawke.
That strange, sharp flicker in her mind.
Like a needle.
Like a door that almost opened.
She shut her eyes harder.
Stop. Don't think.
Don't.
When she came out, the apartment smelled faintly of cleaning spray and food.
Bean was wiping down surfaces with the seriousness of a housekeeper and the precision of an accountant.
"Mommy," he reported without looking up, "I'll put your shirt into the washing machine later. The hairdryer is on the balcony. Delivery arrives in about fifteen minutes."
Emily stood there for a second, watching him.
Her throat tightened.
She forced herself to move, took the hairdryer to the balcony, and dried her hair.
Right as she finished, the doorbell rang.
Bean opened the door and carried the pizza into the living room like a precious treasure.
"Mommy, your pizza is here."
He opened the box and handed her disposable gloves as if she were royalty.
Emily sank onto the sofa and sighed.
"Bean, if you keep treating me like this, I'm going to become completely useless."
Bean turned to her with unwavering devotion.
"No. Taking care of Mommy is my duty. Mommy only needs to stay beautiful."
Emily laughed and took a bite of pizza.
Bean switched on the TV.
A news channel was playing.
The anchor's voice cut through the room:
"Today, Blue Ember Group CEO Sebastian Hawke—"
Emily inhaled too sharply.
She choked.
Coughing violently, she nearly dropped the slice.
"Mommy!" Bean instantly set the remote aside and patted her back, worried and scolding at the same time.
"You just separated from Daddy and you're still this excited when you hear his name?"
Emily coughed until her eyes watered.
She opened her mouth to say Stop calling him that—
But at that moment, the front door unlocked.
The door swung open.
Sophie Shen entered, handbag on her shoulder, voice casual from exhaustion.
"Bean, I'm back—"
She looked up.
Saw Emily in the living room.
Relief flashed across her face.
"You're finally back! Last night you—"
Then her gaze dropped.
To the oversized men's shirt Emily had not yet changed out of.
Then up to Bean.
To the word she had just heard—
Daddy.
The entire room went silent.
Sophie slowly turned her head toward Bean.
Her voice sharpened into something dangerous.
"Bean," she said slowly, "what did you just say?"
Bean blinked, perfectly innocent.
"I said Daddy."
Sophie's expression turned blank.
Then: disbelief.
Then: the beginning of a storm.
Emily's soul left her body.
Bean, sensing the dramatic moment, added one final sentence—softly and with maximum impact:
"Aunt Sophie… Mommy slept in Daddy's shirt last night."
Emily wanted to disappear.
Sophie took a slow breath, as if suppressing an explosion.
Then she pointed at the sofa.
"Emily Chu," she said with terrifying calm, "sit down. Now. Immediately. And explain."