Crimson Gardens, the Montgomery Estate.
The door to the master bedroom swung open as Adrian dashed in, flinging himself into his mother’s arms where she sat on the edge of the bed.
Mom, Dad said you’ve been busy and not home lately and told me not to bother you, but I really missed you.
Mila embraced her son, the familiar warmth of their bond stirring a deep emotion within her, though she regained composure quickly.
She recalled the day before her court appointment, when Adrian had been holding hands with Giselle, and walking alongside Lysander to his favorite candy store, all of them together like a family.
How much truth was there in those words?
But he was her child, after all. Gently, she pulled back a bit, letting him sit beside her as she asked in a calm voice about his recent adventures and schoolwork.
Adrian, however, resisted being pulled away.
Having not been close to his mom for a while, he usually played with Giselle when they were apart, only occasionally thinking of her. But now, seeing her, he instinctively wanted to be near.
He loved the scent of his mother, the warmth of her embrace…
He nestled back into her arms, holding onto Mila’s soft white sweater, unwilling to let go. Mila let him sit on her lap, not hugging him back, her expression calm as she listened to his endless chatter about school and life.
The boy had so much to share, stories from school, tidbits from his day-to-day…
Mom, I made a new friend recently.
Adrian bobbed his head enthusiastically. But he wasn’t at school today. I think he’s sick. When he gets better, I’ll bring him over to play.
Mila was touched and asked, Would you like to visit your friend now? I can go with you.
The little boy shook his head, No, that sounds like a hassle.
He didn’t feel like going out.
Mila let the suggestion drop.
…
Just then, the bedroom door opened and Leonard stood at the entrance, his face expressionless. Young master, it’s time for dinner.
Oh, okay.
Adrian hopped off his mother’s lap and headed towards the door, with Mila naturally following him out.
Shortly after, Harper came upstairs with a tray.
She glanced at Leonard standing stiffly like a sentinel by the wall, his expression cold, and decided against speaking out of turn, stepping into the room instead.
Mila accepted the meal without protest.
The thought of refusing to eat as a form of protest never crossed her mind. Whatever her plans—be it escaping, resisting, or contemplating her next move—she needed strength, and that required nourishment.
Madam, let me help you with that.
Seeing Mila struggle with the fork, her movements lacking strength, Harper offered.
Okay.
Mila didn’t insist.
Were it not for the urgent circumstances earlier, she would never have used her injured hand like that. Now her palm was covered in wounds, and even holding a fork was painful, something she couldn’t afford given her career.
She would have to be more careful in the future.
With Harper feeding her bite by bite, the meal was finished smoothly.