Chapter 8
After I told the building security not to let anyone in without my permission, Kaiden switched tactics.
Sometimes, he’d wait for me alone at the entrance of the complex in the morning, sitting in the back seat of his Maybach, looking as if he hadn’t slept all night.
When he saw me, he’d rush over, travel–worn, and hand me a steaming breakfast.
“You never eat in the morning. It’s bad for your stomach. Just have a little, okay?”
Other times, he’d bring Nash along and trail behind me as I walked the dog.
I passed by without so much as a glance, never acknowledging them once.
Neighbors I met while walking with Addie were sometimes curious about the striking father and son who lingered around me.
I answered honestly, “My ex–husband, who’s in love with someone else, and his son, who prefers her too.”
They’d be taken aback at first, but then immediately rally to my side.
Whenever they spotted Kaiden and Nash, they’d tip me off in advance, telling me not to go out yet–out of sight, out of mind.
I’d just smile and reassure them, “It’s fine. I really don’t care anymore.”
Kaiden had plenty of work waiting for him at the office.
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There was no way he could keep pestering me forever.
More than once, I’d see him sitting in his car, exhausted, fielding call after call.
Maybe it was the company.
Maybe it was the Fielton family.
After all, he’d been away with Nash far too long.
Sometimes Nash would sneak out behind Kaiden’s back, having the driver bring him over to find me.
He wouldn’t say a word, just quietly follow me in tiny steps as I walked.
I’d focus on Addie, giving her water, coaxing her to eat treats.
She’d wag her little tail and bark softly at me, her joy so pure.
Nash would stand nearby, watching silently, his eyes burning with anger.
Kids aren’t as skilled as adults at hiding their feelings.
Once, Addie darted ahead, and Nash couldn’t keep up.
He tripped and fell hard on the stone walkway, finally bursting into tears, his eyes red and pleading, “Mother, it hurts.”
Nash rarely cried after he grew up a bit–he understood too much, kept things bottled up.
But that day, overwhelmed and miserable, he lay on the ground, sobbing until he broke down completely.
I just watched him quietly, not moving at all.
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Until the bodyguards trailing behind rushed over and scooped him up.
Nash used to get sick a lot. Whenever he fell ill and grew listless, I’d feel it too, worried and aching for him.
But now, my heart was calm and unmoved, not even a ripple left.
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