Lily POV

I built Sinclair Logistics out of a single warehouse and a grudge. Two years later, it was the only company in Meridian that scared Cross Industries.

My son had Ronan’s eyes and my stubbornness, which Dean said was the worst possible combination for a toddler and I privately agreed with him.

Theo was two years old, asleep in his stroller in the back office, and I was standing in a conference room on the fortieth floor of a building I’d sworn I’d never set foot in again, about to negotiate a supply contract that would either make Sinclair Logistics untouchable or bury it.

Sinclair Logistics had started in a single leased warehouse on the industrial edge of Meridian, a building so old the landlord had thrown in the first three months free just to have someone finally take it off his hands.

Two years later, the company had four regional hubs, a client list that made competitors nervous, and one supply contract standing between it and a level of stability I still didn’t fully trust wasn’t going to get taken away from me the way everything else had.

“They’re late,” Dean muttered beside me, checking his watch for the third time.

“They’re never late,” I said. “Cross Industries doesn’t do late. They do intimidation dressed as scheduling.”

The door opened at exactly nine minutes past the hour, which I understood now was the point.

I didn’t look up right away. I was reading the final page of the contract terms, the numbers I’d spent three weeks fighting my own legal team to get right, and I only glanced up when the room went quiet in that particular way rooms went quiet around people who were used to being noticed.

Ronan Cross stood in the doorway in a charcoal suit, two associates flanking him, reading from a folder like he hadn’t yet bothered to look at who he was here to meet.

“Apologies for the delay,” he said, still looking down. “Traffic on the bridge.”

“Understandable,” I said.

Dean leaned over, voice pitched low enough that only I would hear it. “You want to tell me why your hands just went still on the table, or should I guess?”

“Guess later.”

His head came up at my voice.

I watched it happen in real time, the exact second recognition landed, the folder in his hand going still, the color draining out of his face like someone had pulled a plug.

“Lily.”

“Mr. Cross.” I kept my voice level, businesslike, the voice I’d spent two years learning to use in rooms exactly like this one. “Shall we sit? I believe we have a contract to discuss.”

He didn’t move.

“You’re,” he started, and stopped, looking around the room like he was checking whether anyone else could see what he was seeing. “Sinclair Logistics. You’re Sinclair Logistics.”

“I built it,” I said. “Every warehouse, every route, every contract you’re currently losing sleep over. Surprised?”

“I had no idea it was you.”

“Would it have changed the offer your company made?” I gestured at the folder in his hand, the one his people had spent weeks drafting to try to undercut a competitor they clearly hadn’t bothered to properly investigate. “Or were you just planning to crush whoever this was on principle?”

His jaw tightened the way it used to when he was choosing between two answers, the true one and the safe one.

“Sit down, Ronan,” I said, before he could pick either. “You’re blocking the door, and I have a four o’clock.”

He sat. Slowly, like the chair might be a trap.

For the next forty minutes I watched him try and fail to reconcile the woman across the table with the wife he’d signed away two years ago, watched him lose three separate points in the negotiation because he couldn’t stop staring instead of reading the terms in front of him, watched the careful control he wore like armor start to come apart at the seams in a boardroom instead of a bedroom for once.

Dean, beside me, was enjoying this far more than was professional. Twice he caught my eye across the table when Ronan fumbled a number he should have known cold, and twice I had to look down at my notes to keep from smiling.

“Your penalty clause on late shipments is aggressive,” Ronan said at one point, tapping the page like he was back on solid ground. “Nobody in this market agrees to eighteen percent.”

“Sinclair Logistics has a ninety-eight percent on-time delivery rate,” I said. “The clause has never once been triggered. I can afford to be aggressive when I’m not the one who’s going to pay it.”

One of his associates actually laughed before catching himself. Ronan did not.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” he said, quieter, like it had slipped out before he could stop it.

“I did it without you,” I said. “Turns out that was the missing ingredient the whole time.”

We were closing the meeting, contracts nearly finalized, when the office door at the far end of the room opened and one of my junior assistants leaned in, apologetic.

“Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Sinclair,” she said. “Theo’s awake and asking for you.”

Ronan’s associate to his left glanced between us, clearly recalculating something in real time. Dean, beside me, went very carefully quiet, the way he only did when he wanted to give me the floor entirely.

The room went very still.

I watched Ronan’s eyes track past me to the doorway, where my assistant was now holding my son’s hand, a small dark-haired boy in overalls squinting sleepily at the room full of strangers in suits.

I watched Ronan look at that boy’s face.

The final click of calculation hit him.

His mouth opened, and for the first time in two years, Ronan Cross had absolutely nothing prepared to say.

“Lily,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Is that…”

“We’re done here for today,” I said, closing my folder with a snap that echoed through the silent room. “My office will follow up on the final terms.”

I stood, walked around the table, and picked up my son, who immediately buried his face in my shoulder the way he did with strangers.

I looked back at Ronan once, from the doorway, at the man frozen in his chair with two years of assumptions crumbling in real time behind his eyes.

“You should have asked more questions two years ago,” I said. “You’re a little late asking them now.”

Behind me, I heard his chair scrape back like he meant to follow. One of his associates said his name, low, a warning about the four other people still in the room and the contract still sitting unsigned on the table. I didn’t wait to hear whether it worked.

Then I walked out, and for the first time since the night of that birthday party, I didn’t look back to see if he was watching.

Theo’s small hand curled into my collar as the elevator doors closed between us and the boardroom, and I pressed a kiss to the top of his head, steady, unhurried, refusing to let my pulse show on my face until the doors were fully shut.

“Mama,” he mumbled against my shoulder, already half back asleep. “Home?”

“Home,” I said.

Behind those doors, I knew, Ronan Cross was standing in a room full of people he paid to keep his secrets, doing math he should have done two years ago.

For the first time since I’d signed those papers, I didn’t feel like the one who owed anybody an explanation.

Ronan

I couldn't get the image of Lily walking away with that little boy out of my head.

I sat in the back of my car, staring through the window without really seeing anything outside. My mind ought to focus on the meeting and its outcome, especially after learning that Lily had managed to build Sinclair Logistics into a company that could compete with mine. Yet, here I was, unable to silence the questions filling my mind.

“We've arrived, sir.” My chauffeur brought the car to a stop.

As he climbed out to open its door for me, I got out, walking straight into the house where I found her, Freya. She was seated comfortably on a chocolate-brown couch in the living room, flipping through the pages of a magazine.

“Jules.” She was quick to spot me when I stepped in. “You're back.” She smiled sweetly, reaching for the glass table in front of her to place the magazine on.

She adjusted herself to near the armrest, patting the soft seat cushion,“Come. Come sit with me.”

I said nothing as I walked over, settling down next to her. And leaning toward me, she reached for the tie around my neck to loosen its knot.

Such a familiar gesture should have eased the tension in me, at least.

But it didn't.

She didn't like my silence, so she frowned slightly, realizing I wasn't being myself.

“Hey. What's wrong? You don't seem like yourself right now.”

My expression was distant, and she could tell.

I leaned back and brought a hand to my face, hoping to shake off whatever thoughts.

“It's nothing.” I simply said.

Meanwhile, her own expression showed she didn't believe me.

“You've barely said a word since you walked in through that door. So please, don't brush me off by telling me it's nothing.” She responded with an impatient look. “Was your meeting with Sinclair Logistics worse than expected?” She watched me closely, hoping to figure out what I wasn't saying.

I faced her to meet her gaze.

I'd mentioned the meeting to her earlier before heading out, not expecting to come back feeling this disturbed. The contract mattered, but that wasn't what had followed me home. The thought of Lily and that little boy had.

I took a measured breath, eventually breaking my silence, “The meeting itself wasn't the problem, but whom I found seated on the other side of the table.”

Freya furrowed her brows, clearly puzzled by my words, “Who?” She cared to know.

“Lily. She freaking owns Sinclair Logistics.” I blinked really fast, trying to steady myself.

Freya's hand dropped from my tie, her eyes widening for several few seconds before returning to normal. She stared at me, too shocked to even say a word.

She really didn't know?

I couldn't help but wonder.

“But she's your sister. How come you're just hearing about it now? That she owns a company of her own.” I gave her a curious look.

She avoided my eyes, her expression shifting into visible discomfort.

“Well..” She merely shrugged, showing little concern. “Lily has never made me feel like we're actually siblings. We haven't been close for a very long time. And besides, she keeps almost everything about her life to herself. Apparently, she never intended for me to find out.” She added.

I stayed silent, keeping my eyes fixed on her. I just didn't know what to make of such an explanation. I had always thought she would know more about Lily than I ever could, considering the fact that they're sisters. It turns out I hadn't understood their relationship at all.

“There was also a little boy in the picture.” I spoke, Freya waiting for me to continue.

While I failed to, she seized the chance to question me, “A little boy?”

I answered with a small nod.

“Could he be her son?” She followed up with another question.

“I think so.” I responded, not really sure.

“In that case, maybe she slept with some random man after you two separated, got pregnant, and…” She trailed off, considering how best to continue. “Yes. He dumped her.” She eventually came up with a version she expected me to buy.

How sure can she be?

I gave her a look that showed I wasn't convinced.

“C'mon, Jules. You've got to believe what I'm telling you.” Her tone softened into one meant to convince me. “You know how Lily can be. I mean, who knows? She probably didn't feel the need to let me know.” She added.

I stayed quiet, looking for any possibility that could prove her wrong. Yet the more I considered her words, the fewer reasons I found to doubt her.

I didn't see a ring on Lily's finger that could tell she's already married.

Not even a cheap one.

If the child's father is her husband, I see no reason why she should keep it a secret, particularly after becoming a successful business owner.

So perhaps, Freya could be right. Maybe Lily is a single mom.

Either way, it's not something I should concern myself with.

Lily is no longer my wife but ex, so why should I care about the life she had chosen for herself?

I shifted on the couch restlessly, forcing myself to let go of what I was feeling.

Freya placed her hand on my chest, clearly trying to get me to focus on her again.

“You're here. But your attention clearly isn't.” She said,

I looked at her hand on my chest, lifting my gaze to hers.

“You have my attention.” I spoke, my feelings not matching the words.

“Fine. If you say so.” She took her hand off my chest to reach for her iPad. She unlocked it to start scrolling through, “I came across some dresses that would fit my shape perfectly and make me look too good for you to resist.” She chuckled softly, looking so pleased with herself.

Was I even paying any attention to her at all?

“See.” She held the iPhone up to my face so I would see its screen clearly.

I just stared at it blankly…

“Jules…” She hit my shoulder lightly with hers. “Why are you acting like you can't hear me? Seriously, if it's about her and that bastard she calls son, you had better come of it. Get them out of your head.” She sounded genuinely upset.

“I'm…” I cut myself short to take her hand in mine. “I'm sorry.”

“You should be.” She said, trying to relax her features. “Besides, the only amazing souls you should care about are me, and our baby.” She pulled her hand away from mine to stroke her rounded belly.

Yes. She's carrying my child, and soon, we're going to have our first baby. We may not have exchanged vows yet, but before our baby arrives, I'll definitely put a ring on her finger and make her my wife.

Lily

I stepped into my mansion, so different from the cramped rented room I had lived in while still carrying Theo in my womb. Years of struggling to keep my business running had eventually paid off, giving me a life where I no longer had to worry about any expense before spending a dime.

I had finally made it to the point where I could call a grand mansion in an exclusive neighborhood my home. The mansion featured tall glass windows, polished marble floors, and more rooms, making my old room seem like a world from another life.

After the exhausting day we had, Dean took it upon himself to drive Theo and me home, determined to see us safely through the door. As he approached me carrying a stack of files in his hands, I placed another file on top.

My action caused him to shift his weight. He however, managed to clutch the files to his chest before they could hit the floor.

“Careful, boss.” He said.

I simply looked at him, too exhausted to even say a word, “You're the one carrying nearly half of the files from my office.” I made a little joke.

None of us laughed at my joke. But he gave me a faint smile. He sighed tiredly, shaking his head as he rearranged the files until they were balanced again.

“Take those upstairs and store them in the locker inside my room.” I instructed.

He had earned enough of my trust that I could rely on him for almost any errand. In other words, my trust in him had grown beyond the walls of the company. I had given him access to parts of my life that I kept closed off from almost everyone else, this house included.

He gave me another tired look, probably wondering how many more tasks I planned to give him before finally letting him leave.

And me, I couldn't help but smirk at him, “Quit giving me that look. You know what? I'm just going to fix you something to eat before you leave. I'm guessing you're really hungry.” I said.

“Yes, boss.” He lifted his hand in a lighthearted salute.

He turned toward the staircase to climb up the stairs, leaving me to deal with my own exhaustion.

One look at myself was enough to make me laugh. The day's stress had ruined my makeup so badly that I looked ridiculous.

Like a clown.

I wanted nothing more than to disappear into my room, clean myself up, and crash into bed. But someone was already waiting for my attention, whether I was tired or not.

Theo.

He walked with his little legs to follow me to the couch, where I helped him get comfortable. Then I set my handbag on the coffee table.

“Stay right here for Mama, okay?”

He looked at me innocently, his eyes fixed on me as I made my way into the kitchen to make his food.

Theo was only two years old, yet he wouldn't eat the ordinary meals other kids his age enjoy. He still preferred the soft food I made for him, choosing to remain stubborn whenever I tried introducing normal meals to him.

I put a small saucepan on the stove to prepare his warm chicken and vegetable puree. Just the way he likes it. I blended the cooked chicken, soft carrots, potatoes, and a little rice into a creamy mixture. I made sure it was smooth enough for him to be able to swallow easily.

After stirring carefully, I checked the temperature to make sure it wasn't too hot before taking it off the stove. I served the puree in a bowl to take to the dining table, pulling a chair to sit down.

“Theo. Come have your food. It's ready.” I glanced over, seeing only the back of his head since he was still well seated on the couch.

He quickly hopped down to toddle toward me. At the dining table, he tried to hop on the seat. But then, he was still too little to get himself on the high seat. He tried once more, stretching his short little legs toward the seat.

Even so, he couldn't get himself on the seat. I smiled to myself, touched by how hard he kept trying.

He really is my son.

“Mama!” He uttered.

“Come here, little man.” I stood up to settle him on the chair, taking my seat next to him.

His bowl of food was already on the table. So I reached for the small spoon in it to give to him. He scooped up a spoonful and fed himself, scooping up another to hold the spoon toward me.

“For Mama?” I blinked, leaning closer to be fed by him.

His face lit up with a delighted little grin.

“So sweet of you, Theo.” I grinned at him sweetly too.

I took the spoon from his little hand, scooping another mouthful to feed him. He opened his mouth widely, a little stain clinging to the corner of his mouth.

“Messy little boy.” I grabbed a napkin to wipe the stain off.

He giggled softly under his breath, shifting his attention back to the bowl on the table. He had eaten almost all the puree, a small portion left in the bowl. I kept feeding him, anyway, until there was just one spoonful left. I scooped up the last spoonful to bring close to his mouth, only for him to turn his face away.

“No.” He responded with a stubborn shake of his head.

“C'mon, Theo, just one more.”

He refused yet again. This time, he wasn't looking at either me, or the bowl. But the staircase. I looked toward it and saw Dean climbing down, his hands now finally free from carrying those files. I kept my expression neutral, my attention drawn to the way Theo kept staring at him.

It was off…

He stared at him like he was seeing him for the first time.

Had he somehow forgotten how Dean often entertained him at the office whenever I was busy with work?

I looked back at Theo, unable to understand what about Dean had captured his attention.

Could it have been his hair? Maybe his mouth or nose? What exactly?

Dean made his way to the table to stand close to it. Theo's eyes sparkled now that he was closer.

“Papa!” He murmured happily.

I froze when the words reached my ears.

Papa?

The shock on Dean's face mirrored mine. And just for a few seconds, neither of us could find the right words to speak.

Why would Theo call him such, when he isn't? The heck, he is not his father.