<b>Chapter </b><b>85 </b>
-HUNTER-
<b>62</b><b>% </b>
“You’re brooding again.”
Vincent’s voice cut through my attention as I stared at the London skyline through the rain–streaked windows.
The merger documentsy forgotten on my desk, numbers blurring together as my mind wandered to a pair of warm brown eyes and a three–year–old with my stubborn chin.
“I don’t brood,” I muttered, loosening my tie. “I strategize.”
“Right. And I’m secretly Batman.” Vincent sprawled across my leather couch like he owned the ce, tossing peanuts from my expensive crystal bowl into his mouth.
“You’ve been ‘strategizing‘ for three days straight. Pretty sure that’s just fancy rich boy speak for brooding.”
I turned to re at him. “Don’t you have your own hotel room to terrorize?”
“Nah, yours has better snacks.” He caught another peanut with amazing uracy. “Plus, someone needs to keep you from turning into aplete hermit. When’s thest time you called home?”
The question hit too close to home. I had been avoiding calls to the estate, knowing that hearing Celine’s voice would make me want to catch the next flight back.
And I couldn’t. Not yet. Not until I figured out how to handle the bomb my mother had dropped in myp.
My phone buzzed. Caroline’s name shed on the screen.
“Your cousin’s persistent,” Vincent observed as I declined the call for the fourth time today. “What’s she done now? Bought another endangered animal? Set your kitchen on fire trying to cook?”
Before I could answer, the phone rang again. This time I picked up, if only to stop Vincent’smentary.
“Caroline, I’m in the middle of….” <fn6d7a> Get full chapters from find?novel</fn6d7a>
“Hunter, thank God!” Her voice was breathless, panicked. “You need toe home. Now.”
Ice formed in my veins. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Aunt Eleanor. She… Hunter, she took Caesar.”
The world tilted sideways. “What do you mean she took him?”
Vincent shot upright, peanuts scattering across the floor.
“This morning. Celine woke up and he was gone. Just gone, Hunter. There was only a note saying he was with Aunt Eleanor for the day, but you know how she gets about family bloodlines and…”
<b>“</b>Caroline.” My voice was deadly calm. “Where is Celine now?”
“She’s <b>a </b>mess. Completely falling apart. She called me crying, asking if I knew where they went, and Hunter, I think she suspects that Aunt Eleanor <b>knows </b><b>about</b>….”
<b>“</b>About Caesar being mine. The words tasted like ash. “<b>Yes</b><b>, </b><b>I </b>know.<i>” </i>
Silence stretched a
ine. Then: “You know? How long have you known?”
<b>16:48 </b>Sat<b>, </b><b>2 </b>Aug
“Does it matter?” I was already moving, grabbing my jacket from the chair. “Where did my mother take him?”
“I don’t know! She’s not answering her phone, and Baron’s not talking, Hunter, what if she’s nning something? What if she tries to<i>…</i><i>” </i>
“She won’t hurt him.” But event as I said it, my chest tightened with a fear I had never experienced. Not fear for Caesar’s physical safety….Mother might be calcting, but she wasn’t cruel to children. No, this was something worse.
“She’s making a point.”
“What kind of point?”
The kind that could destroy everything I had started to hope for. The kind that could take Caesar away from Celine permanently.
“I’ming home,” I said. “Don’t let Celine do anything rash.”
“Hunter, wait….”
I hung up and turned to find Vincent watching me with knowing eyes.
“So,” he said casually, “your secret love child has been kidnapped by your scary mother. Just another Tuesday in the Reid
old.”
“This isn’t funny, Vincent.”
“Oh, I know.” He stood, suddenly serious. “That’s why we’re leaving. Now. Because that look on your face? That’s not the look of a man worried about some random employee’s kid. That’s the look of a father who’s about to lose his son.”
My hands shook as I shoved papers into my briefcase. “She can’t take him from her.”
“Your mother?”
“Yes.” The word came out sharper than intended. “Celine doesn’t even know that I know he’s mine. If Mother reveals that, if she uses it as leverage…”
“Hunter.” Vincent’s voice was gentle. “You’re going to have to tell her eventually.”
“Tell her what? That I’ve known for weeks that Caesar is my son but said nothing? That I’ve been watching her struggle and worry about keeping us safe when I could have protected them both?” I mmed the briefcase shut.
“She’ll think I was ying games with her.”
“Were you?”
The question stopped me cold. “No. God, no. I was trying to protect them.”
“From what?”
“From this!” I gestured wildly at the phone. “From Mother’s schemes and family politics and all the toxic shit thates with being a Reid!”
Vincent was quiet for a long moment. Then: “You know what I think?”
“Do I have <b>a </b>choice?”
“I think you’re scared.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to protest. “Not of your mother. Not of the family drama. <b>You’re </b><b>scared </b><b>that </b><b>if </b><b>you </b><b>tell </b>Celine the truth, she’ll realize she doesn’t need you anymore.”
The words hit like a physical blow. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is <b>it</b><b>? </b>Think about it, Hunter. Right now, she depends on you for a job, for housing<b>, </b>for security. But <b>if </b>she knows <b>Caesar </b><b>is </b><b>your </b><b>heir</b><b>, </b><b>if </b><b>she </b><b>knows </b><b>he’s </b>entitled <b>to </b>everything the Reid name can provide… what does she need you for<b>?</b>”
<b>2/3 </b>
16:48 Sat, 2 Aug
“She doesn’t….” I stopped, the protest dying in my throat.
Because he was right.
62%
And the thought of Celine looking at me with analysis instead of warmth, of her seeing me as just a means to secure Caesar’s future instead of.. whatever this thing between us was bing… it terrified me more than any business deal gone wrong.
“She would never do that,” I said quietly.
“know she wouldn’t.” Vincent’s voice was kind. “The question is: do you?”
My phone buzzed with a text from Caroline: ‘Celine’s inconsble. Please hurry.”
“We need to go,” I said, heading for the door.
“Hunter.” Vincent caught my arm. “When you see her, when you see how scared she is… remember that she’s not the enemy here. Your mother is the one ying games. Celine’s just trying to protect her son.”
“Our son,” I corrected without thinking.
Vincent smiled. “Yeah. Your son. Who probably inherited your stubborn streak and your mother’s tactical mind. God help us
Despite everything, I almost smiled back. Almost.
But then I thought of Caesar’s trusting blue eyes and Celine’s fierce protectiveness, and the fear came rushing back.
Mother had made her move.
Now I had to figure out how to counter it without losing everything that mattered.
The flight home couldn’te fast enough.