-HUNTER


    270320


    Sleep had abandoned me hours ago.


    I had tried everything…counting sheep, reviewing quarterly reports in my head, even attempting that meditation technique Vincent swore by.


    Nothing worked.


    My mind kept circling back to the library, to soft lips and whispered promises, to the way Celine had looked at me like I was worth something more than my bank ount.


    At 11:42 PM, I gave up and slipped out of my suite, bare feet silent on the marble floors. The mansion felt different at night–less charging, more like a home than a tombstone to Reid’s family legacy.


    I headed toward the kitchen, thinking a ss of whiskey might finally quiet my restless thoughts.


    I knew Celine and Caesar lived in the staff quarters on the east wing, but they sometimes used the main kitchen whe


    I had noticed the pattern over the past few weekste–night trips for warm milk when the boy had nightmares.


    That’s when I heard it.


    Soft giggles echoed from the kitchen, followed by Celine’s voice, warm and yful in a way that made my chest tighten.


    “And then the blueberry muffin said, ‘But I don’t want to be eaten! I want to be a pirate and sail the seven seas!“”


    More giggles, higher–pitched and delighted.


    I stopped in the doorway, my breath catching at the scene before me.


    n’t around.


    Celine sat perched on a stool beside the marble ind, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She wore a pale blue robe that looked soft as silk, paired with ridiculous fuzzy slippers shaped like little bears.


    In her hands was a warm bottle of milk, steam still rising from its surface.


    But it was Caesar who made my heart skip.


    The three–year–old sat cross–legged on the counter itself, something that would have given Sally a heart attack. His dark curls were mussed from sleep, and he wore dinosaur pajamas that made him look impossibly small.


    A milk mustache decorated his upper lip as he giggled at his mother’s story, tiny fingers ying with the ends of her hair.


    “What happened next, Mama?” he asked, voice heavy with sleep but bright with curiosity.


    “Well,” Celine said, lifting the bottle to his lips again, “the muffin found a tiny boat made of banana peels and…”


    I took a step inside, and the floorboard creaked.


    Both heads turned toward me instantly. Caesar’s eyes went wide with surprise, while Celine looked startled, almost guilty.


    <b>“</b><b>Did </b>we wake you?” she asked quietly, her cheeks flushing pink in the kitchen’s warm light.


    <b>I </b>shook my head, my voiceing out softer than I’d intended. “No… I couldn’t steep. What’s going on here?”


    “Midnight snack,” Caesar announced solemnly, holding up his bottle like it was a trophy. Then he yawned so dramatically that <b>I </b><b>had </b><b>to </b><b>bite </b><b>back </b>a smile,


    “Mama <b>say </b>


    chase bad dreams away.”


    16:47 Sat<b>, </b>2 Aug


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    The word ‘mama‘ hit me like a physical blow. Not because it hurt, but because of how right it sounded, how natural. This child… my child, though she didn’t know I knew…had only ever known Celine as his mother.


    The DNA test results hidden in my safe confirmed what my heart had suspected the moment I saw those blue eyes that mirrored my own.


    But I couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Not when I was still terrified she’d take him and disappear the moment she learned the truth.


    “He’s been having nightmares again,” Celine exined, reaching for a napkin to wipe Caesar’s milk mustache. “Just needed a littlefort.”


    I watched her gentle movements, the way she handled him with such practiced ease. Three years of midnight feedings, nightmare chasing, and storytelling.


    Three years of being everything to him while I’d been an ocean away, building an empire I had thought mattered.


    “Bad dreams about what?” I asked, moving closer despite myself.


    Caesar considered this seriously, his little face scrunched in concentration. “Monsters,” he said finally. “Big scary ones that want to take Mama away.”


    My chest tightened. “That sounds terrible.”


    “But Mama’s magic milk makes them go away,” he added, taking another sip. “And her stories about brave muffins


    Without thinking, I reached out and brushed his curls away from his eyes. They were so soft, so much like my hair had been at that age.


    The same stubborn cowlick, the same way they caught the light. Caesar didn’t flinch or pull away…instead, he leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.


    My son.


    The words echoed in my mind, a secret I carried like a weight in my chest. He trusted me so easily, this little boy who shared my DNA but had never known me as anything more than his mother’s employer.


    “You like warm milk?” I asked, my voice rougher than intended.


    Caesar nodded solemnly. “But only when Mama makes it. She puts honey in it and tells it stories while it warms up.”


    I nced at Celine, who was studying her hands with intense concentration. “You tell stories to milk?”


    “It makes it taste better,” she said defensively, though I caught the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t judge my methods.”


    “Then I guess it must be special,” I said to Caesar, who beamed at me like I’d just discovered the secret to world peace.


    For a moment, silence settled over the kitchen. Not ufortable, exactly, but fragile….like something precious that might shatter if we breathed too


    hard.


    The three of us existed in a bubble of warm light and the lingering scent of honey, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt… peaceful.


    “Mind if I sit?” I asked, gesturing to the empty stool beside Celine.


    She hesitated for just a second before nodding, scooting over slightly to make room. I settled beside her, close enough to catch the faint scent of her shampoo…something floral and clean that made my pulse quicken despite the domestic tranquility of the moment.


    “So,” I said to Caesar, who was watching me with curious eyes, “what other adventures have this muffin had?”


    “Oh!” Caesar perked up immediately. “One time he met a cookie who was sad because nobody wanted to eat him!”


    “Why didn’t anyone want to eat the cookie?” Lasked, genuinely curious now.


    “Beca


    shaped funny,” Caesar exined with the gravity of someone sharing state secrets. “Like a squiggly line <b>instead </b><b>of </b><b>a </b><b>circle</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>


    10.47 Sat, 2 Aug


    Chapter 80 <fn5cdd> Checktest chapters at Find_Novel(.</fn5cdd>


    “That’s terrible,” I said seriously. “What did the muffin do?”


    “He told the cookie that being different made him special! And then they became best friends and had adventures together!”


    I felt Celine’s eyes on me, warm and assessing.


    63%


    When I nced at her, she was smiling….not the careful, professional smile she wore during the day, but something real and unguarded that made my heart skip.


    “That’s a good story,” I said to Caesar. “Your mama’s very smart.”


    “The smartest,” Caesar agreed, snuggling closer to Celine’s side. “She knows everything about everything.”


    “I don’t know about that,” Celine murmured, but she was still smiling.


    “You do too!” Caesar protested. “You know how to make pancakes shaped like animals, and you know all the words to the sleepy songs, and you know exactly how much honey makes milk taste like magic!”


    Each item on his list felt like a small revtion. All the ways she’d mothered him, cared for him, been everything h


    The weight of missed time pressed against my chest, but for once it didn’t feel entirely like loss. There was someth that he had her.


    “Those are pretty important things to know,” I admitted.


    Caesar nodded sagely, then yawned again. This time it was smaller, more tired than theatrical.


    “Getting sleepy?” Celine asked gently.


    “Maybe a little,” he admitted, though his eyes were already drooping.


    i while I’d been absent.


    there too….gratitude, maybe,


    I watched as she helped him down from the counter, steadying him when his feet hit the floor. He swayed slightly, the warm milk andte hour finally catching up with him.


    “Come on, little pirate,” she said, scooping him up. “Let’s get you back to bed.”


    Caesar wrapped his arms around her neck, but his eyes found mine over her shoulder. “Will you tell me a story tomorrow?” he asked drowsily.


    The question caught me off guard. “You… want me to tell you a story?”


    “Uh–huh. About brave princes who fight dragons.”


    I looked at Celine, who was watching our exchange with something soft and hopeful in her eyes. “If it’s okay with your mama,” I said carefully.


    “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “He’d like that.”


    As they headed toward the door, Caesar lifted his head one more time. “Mr. Hunter?”


    “Yeah?”


    “Thank you for keeping us safe from the monsters


    And just like that, something cracked open in my chest. Something I had kept locked away for so long I’d forgotten it existed.


    “Anytime, buddy,” I managed. “Anytime.”


    I watched them disappear into the hallway, Celine’s soft voice already beginning a luby. For a long moment, I sat alone in the kitchen, surrounded by the lingerin warmth of something I had never dared to want.


    A family.


    For the first time in my adult life, I wasn’t alone in the dark. And I realized I never wanted to be again.