Chapter 17

"Excuse me, we're—" The boy's words cut off abruptly as an elderly woman approached.

Was this Miss Evelyn's mother?

"Hello, Grandma!" Alexander greeted politely.

Grandma?

Evelyn turned, following the boy's gaze.

A woman in her fifties, dressed in a sleek white-and-pink Adidas tracksuit, paused mid-stride. Her sharp eyes locked onto them.

Dominic remained silent. He knew this wasn't Evelyn's mother.

"Can I help you?" Evelyn asked, unnerved by the woman's scrutiny.

The stranger frowned, crossing her arms. "Young lady, marriage means responsibility. You can't let your husband and child starve while you're out gallivanting. Look at the time! Dinner should've been ready hours ago."

Her pointed glare at Dominic made Evelyn's cheeks burn.

Before she could protest, the woman turned her wrath on Dominic. "And you! Sulking like a child won't solve anything. What kind of example is that for your son? Modern men cook. Your wife isn't your maid!"

Evelyn's jaw dropped. The misunderstanding was absurd.

"Ma'am, you're mistaken," she blurted. "He's my employer. Nothing more."

The woman's skeptical gaze swept over them—the stiff-backed billionaire, the flustered young woman, the hopeful child clutching gifts.

Her lips pursed. "Sugar babies in this neighborhood? Disgraceful."

With that, she marched off, leaving Evelyn speechless.

Dominic's voice cut through the tension. "Alexander. Say what you came to say."

Evelyn turned.

The boy blinked up at them, confused. Then—remembering his role—he toddled to a shadowed corner.

With visible effort, he lugged two ribbon-tied boxes forward. One pale blue, one ivory.

"Miss Evelyn," he panted, "these are for you." His anxious glance at Dominic betrayed his uncertainty.

Evelyn's resolve wavered. She couldn't reject gifts offered with such earnest effort. Taking them, she met Alexander's hopeful gaze.

"Why give me these?" she asked the boy, though the question was meant for his father.

Unseen by Evelyn, Dominic's eyes locked onto the diamond glittering on her left hand.

Engaged.

Alexander scratched his head. "Dunno..." He looked to Dominic for guidance.

"Mission accomplished. Let's go." Dominic's obsidian gaze lingered on Evelyn for a heartbeat before he turned away.

Both Evelyn and Alexander stared after his retreating figure.

"My dad, he..." The boy trailed off, shoulders slumping.

Evelyn sighed. "I can't keep these."

"Why not?"

How to explain adult complications to a child? She settled for, "Gifts should be earned."

Gently, she returned the boxes. "Catch up to your father. Give these back for me."

A white Porsche idled at the curb.

Dominic gripped the steering wheel, cigarette smoke curling around his sharp features. His eyes darkened at the sight of the returned gifts in his son's arms.

"Trash them," he ordered coldly.

Blackwood Estate

The car barely stopped before Alexander bolted out, silent tears streaking his face.

Reginald Blackwood nearly spilled his tea. "What's upset my great-grandson?"

In five years, father and son had never fought.

Dominic loosened his tie, striding inside.

"Did some gold-digger accost you again?" Beatrice Lockwood, his mother, took his coat with a knowing look.

Dominic shook his head.

Beatrice frowned. What else could wound Alexander so?

The twins had been sheltered, ignorant of mothers until playmates mentioned theirs. That day, Alexander had demanded, "Where's ours?"

Reginald's lie—"You have no mother"—no longer worked.

Defeated, the old man had sighed. "She's far away. If she returns, your father will introduce you."

Only Alexander remembered.

Beatrice handed the coat to a maid, gazing out the window. As grandmother, she burned to know the twins' mother.

But five years had buried that secret.

Luke had never spoken of it.

Faye Thomas and Charles Finn—his former aides—had retired "due to illness." Perhaps a visit might loosen their tongues...