<b>Chapter </b><b>58 </b>


    -HUNTER-


    The mansion feels different when we return. Colder, More formal. As if theke house existed in another dimension–one where could be someone else for a brief moment.


    Caroline chatters the entire drive back, but I barely hear her, My thoughts are consumed by the woman sitting silently in the <b>back </b>seat with her son, the taste of her still staying on my lips.


    By the time we arrive, I’ve made my decision. Whatever happened at theke needs to end there. For both our sakes.


    “I have calls to make,” Iannounce as soon as we enter the foyer. “Vincent, my office. Ten minutes.”


    I don’t look at Celine as I walk <b>away</b>. I can’t


    The next morning, I’m back in control. Back to being Hunter Reid, CEO and heir to the Reid empire. Back to keeping my distance.


    From my office window, I watch Celine in the garden with Caesar. He’s chasing butterflies while she tends to the roses Mrs. Patterson usually handles. Even from <b>here</b><b>, </b>I can see the grace in her movements and the gentle way she touches each bloom.


    1 force myself to turn away.


    A soft knock on the door breaks my concentration hourster. I know who it is before she enters–I’ve be attuned to the sound of her footsteps, the particr way she knocks.


    “Come in,” I call out, straightening papers on my desk to look busy.


    Celine steps inside, closing the door behind her. She’s back in her work uniform–the simple ck dress and white apron that somehow can’t reduce her beauty.


    “Mr. Reid,” she begins, and the formality stings more than it should. “About yesterday…”


    “It was a mistake,” I cut her off, keeping my voice cold and professional “It won’t happen again.”


    Her expression falters for just a moment before she turns it into careful neutrality. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t expecting anything from


    you.”


    Η


    The quiet dignity in her voice makes me want to reach across the desk and pull her to <b>me</b>. To exin that it’s not about her–it’s


    about me.


    About the fact that I can’t offer what she deserves. That she and Caesar need stability, not whatever broken thing I could give them.


    Instead, I nad curtly. “Good. That’s settled, then.”


    She hesitates as if waiting for something m?re. When I remain silent, she turns to leave.


    “Celine,” I call out when her hand touches the doorknob. She pauses, not turning around. “The art sses start next week. The enrollment <b>is </b>still yours if you want it.”


    Her shoulders tense. “Thank you, Mr. Reid.”


    Then she’s gone, leaving behind only a faint trace of her scent–something floral and clean that makes my chest ache.


    Chapter 58 <fn4c3e> Discover more novels at find?novel</fn4c3e>


    Hourster, when the mansion has gone quiet, I stand by my bedroom window, nursing a ss of whiskey, Below, the garden moonlit shadows, peaceful and still.


    I take a long swallow, weing the burn. It doesn’t help. Nothing does.


    I can still feel her—the softness of her lips, the way her body fit against mine, the small gasp she made when i deepened the kit. can still see the trust in her eyes before I crushed it with my coldness <b>today</b>.


    The ss creaks in my grip.


    “Then why the hell do I want to do it again?” Imutter into the empty room.


    The whiskey doesn’t answer.


    -CELINE-


    The day after our return from theke house dawns bright and <b>clear</b>–a mockery of the storm inside me.


    I barely slept, reying that kiss over and over in my mind. The gentleness of his touch. The hunger that followed. The way Hunter Reid…cold, distant Hunter Reid–looked at me like I was something <b>precious</b>.


    But morning came, and with it, reality.


    He avoided me at breakfast, speaking only to Caesar before disappearing into his office. The message was clear: whatever happened at theke was over.


    I try to focus on my duties, grateful that Caesar is too young to notice the tension.


    Mrs. Patterson is under the weather, so I tend the garden in her ce, findingfort in the simple task of pruning roses and pulling weeds while Caesar chases butterflies nearby.


    “Mommy, look!” he calls, cupping adybug gently in his small hands.


    1 smile, pushing down the ache in my chest. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. Remember to be gentle.”


    “Like <b>you </b>are with flowers,” he says, carefully releasing the insect onto a leaf.


    My son. My sweet, perceptive boy. Everything I do is for him–every sacrifice, every hard decision. Including walking away from whatever this thing with Hunter might have been.


    By afternoon, I can’t bear the uncertainty anymore. I need closure, even if it hurts.


    I knock on Hunter’s office door, heart hammering against my ribs.


    His dismissal is swift and brutal. “It was <b>a </b>mistake. It won’t happen again.”


    I swallow hard, pride forcing me to match his coldness. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t expecting anything from you.”


    The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.


    Because I did expect something–not a rtionship or promises, but acknowledgment. Recognition that what happened between us <b>was </b>real, not just some momentarypse in judgment


    I leave his office with my head high, <b>refusing </b>to let him see how deeply his words cut.


    <b>2/3 </b>


    14:59 Fri, 1 Aug G


    ? ?


    The next morning, I found a file on the dining table while cleaning. It’s marked “Confidential,” probably left behind identally. I should return it right away.


    As I approach Hunter’s office, I hear voices from within–Hunter and Vincent. I’m about to knock when Vincent’s words freeze mem


    ce.


    “You’re getting soft–keeping her around like some pet project.”


    There’s a pause before Hunter responds, his voice cold and detached. “She’s a charity case. Nothing more.”


    The file slips from my fingers,nding with a soft thud on the carpet. I can’t wait to hear more. I can’t.


    I stumble away, vision blurred with tears I refuse to shed. A charity case. That’s all 1 am to him. All Caesar and I have ever been.


    Somehow, I make it back to my room in the staff quarters. Only then do I allow the tears to fall, hot and bitter against my cheeks?


    I should have known better. Men like Hunter Reid don’t see women like me as equals. We’re projects. Distractions. Temporary


    amusements


    The worst part is that I believed, just for a moment at theke, that he saw me–saw me. Not the struggling single mother. Not the maid. Me.


    A knock on my door goes unanswered. I can’t face anyone right now, least of all him, if that’s who it is.


    Eventually, I have to emerge. Caesar needs dinner, and <b>I </b>have evening duties toplete. I ssh cold water on my face, fix my appearance as best I can, and return to work with mechanical efficiency.


    I


    I send Caesar to y in the living room while I finish foldingundry. My eyes still burn, but I’ve cried all the tears I’m willing to give Hunter Reid.


    Later, gathering a basket of clean linens, I hear Hunter’s voice from the living room.


    “Where’s your mom?” he asks Caesar,


    My son’s innocent reply carries clearly. “She is crying in her room. Mommy is sad.”


    My heart sinks. I never wanted Caesar to see my pain.


    I step into the hallway just as Hunter turns toward the staff quarters. Our eyes meet across the distance–his widening slightly at my appearance, mine deliberately cold.


    With theundry basket clutched against my chest like a shield, Ice the man who called me a charity case. The man who kissed me like I mattered, then dismissed me like I didn’t.


    The


    and ch


    *ng.


    AD


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