The next morning felt strangely quiet after the warmth of the previous night.
Without Max and Mike running through the halls or arguing over meaningless things, the mansion seemed larger than usual.
Emptier.
Olivia sat beneath the large tree near the garden with a book resting open in her lap, though she had barely read the same page for the past ten minutes.
The children had gone out early with Nur and several guards for the gathering in town.
And now—
Silence.
She frowned slightly at herself.
Since when did I get used to this noise?
A faint breeze moved through the garden, cool against her skin.
Slowly, without realizing it, her eyes drifted shut.
By the time she woke again, warmth rested against the side of her head.
Olivia stiffened immediately.
Her eyes opened sharply before she pulled back slightly—only to find Peter sitting beside her beneath the tree, one arm resting lazily against the bench while the other held the book she had apparently dropped asleep reading.
“You drool in your sleep,” he said casually while flipping a page.
Olivia stared at him flatly.
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“That’s an impressive lie considering you weren’t even here when I fell asleep.”
Peter’s lips twitched faintly.
Interesting.
She was calmer around him now.
Still cautious.
Still guarded.
But no longer openly hostile.
Olivia straightened slightly, taking the book back from him without their fingers touching.
Unlike with the children, she was careful around adults by nature.
Controlled.
Measured.
Peter noticed immediately.
The softness she showed Max and Mike so naturally barely reached anyone else.
Even now, sitting beside him peacefully, there was still distance.
And strangely—
That bothered him more than expected.
“You’re different with them,” he said suddenly.
Olivia glanced at him briefly.
“With who?”
“The children.”
Her gaze returned to the book in her lap.
“…Children are easier.”
Peter leaned back slightly against the tree.
“And adults?”
“They expect too much.”
The answer came immediately.
Simple.
Honest.
Peter studied her quietly after that.
For someone who loved so deeply, Olivia seemed strangely uncomfortable receiving anything back.
As if she only understood how to give warmth—
Not stand inside it herself.
The silence between them stretched comfortably for a while before Olivia suddenly spoke again.
“You’re not married.”
Peter looked mildly surprised by the abrupt topic change.
“No.”
“No fiancée either.”
“…No.”
Olivia frowned slightly.
“Then why do you suddenly have an eight-year-old child?”
Peter let out a short laugh through his nose.
Direct.
Very direct.
“And here I thought you were starting to like me.”
Olivia ignored that completely.
“And why were you even in the South?” she continued calmly.
“You hate leaving the North according to rumors.”
Peter was quiet for a moment this time.
Then finally—
“I came here years ago during a military mission.”
Olivia looked at him properly now, sensing the shift in his tone.
Peter’s gaze moved toward the distant garden instead.
“Someone swapped my drink during a banquet,” he said flatly, almost annoyed by the memory itself.
“I realized too late.”
Olivia blinked once.
“…You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
Peter looked deeply unimpressed with his own life choices.
“I woke up the next morning beside a woman whose name I didn’t even know.”
Olivia stared at him silently.
For the first time since meeting him—
Peter looked genuinely uncomfortable.
“A few years later,” he continued more quietly, “I received a letter.”
His expression darkened slightly.
“She claimed she had my child.”
Olivia’s fingers stilled over the book.
“So you came back to confirm it.”
“Yes.”
“And the mother?”
“She’s alive.”
Olivia’s brows furrowed immediately.
Because that didn’t match what Mike told her.
Orphan.
That was what Mike believed himself to be.
Peter noticed the shift in her expression. New chapters come out on g.com first.
“What?”
Olivia stayed silent for a second before speaking carefully.
“Mike told me he was alone.”
Peter’s expression hardened slightly.
“She abandoned him.”
The answer came coldly.
“She left him in the slums and disappeared long before I arrived.”
Olivia’s chest tightened faintly.
That… sounded far more believable.
Not because she trusted Peter completely—
But because Mike never spoke about his past like someone who remembered love.
Peter exhaled quietly.
“When I finally found her, the child was already missing.”
“And then you tracked him here,” Olivia finished softly.
Peter nodded once.
Silence settled between them again.
But this one felt heavier.
More real.
Olivia lowered her gaze briefly toward her hands before asking quietly—
“When are you going to tell him?”
Peter looked at her sharply.
Actually surprised.
“You’re asking me that?”
A faint crease appeared between Olivia’s brows.
“You expected me to forbid it forever?”
“A few days ago,” Peter said dryly, “you looked ready to stab me for looking at him too long.”
“…I still might.”
That earned a quiet laugh from him.
But Olivia’s expression stayed serious.
“I don’t want Mike to know,” she admitted after a moment.
The honesty surprised even herself slightly.
Her fingers tightened faintly around the edge of the book.
“If I could choose selfishly…” she murmured, “I would keep things exactly as they are.”
Peter watched her carefully now.
“I know what happens after truths like this,” Olivia continued quietly.
“Everything changes.”
Her voice lowered further.
“And I hate that.”
There was something painfully sincere in the way she said it.
Not possessive.
Not manipulative.
Just afraid.
“But,” she added after a pause, “if the truth stays hidden too long, Mike will be the one hurt most.”
Peter’s expression slowly stilled.
Because she wasn’t protecting herself right now.
She was protecting Mike again.
Always Mike.
Always Max.
Always the children first.
That warmth in her—
It reached them so naturally.
Peter looked away slightly, jaw tightening faintly.
A strange jealousy curled quietly in his chest.
Not romantic.
Not entirely.
Something lonelier.
Because no matter how gently Olivia spoke to him now… there was still a distance between them she never kept with the boys.
With children, her softness came naturally.
With adults—
It was cautious.
Careful.
Limited.
Peter suddenly understood something uncomfortable.
The reason he kept lingering near her wasn’t only curiosity anymore.
Part of him wanted that warmth too.
And he had absolutely no idea what to do with that realization
When the sound of the carriage finally echoed through the front gates, Olivia looked up so quickly that the book in her hands nearly slipped from her lap.
For a second, she stayed still.
Then she was already moving.
The servants barely had time to announce the children’s return before she crossed the hallway, the hem of her dress brushing sharply against the floor as she headed outside.
The carriage door opened first for Max.
He stepped down carefully, looking tired from the long outing rather than excited, his usual energy strangely subdued.
Mike followed after him, quieter as always, but Olivia noticed immediately how his shoulders had stiffened the moment he entered the estate grounds again.
Neither boy ran to her.
That alone was enough for Olivia to understand something was wrong.
She slowed her steps.
Max and Mike approached politely, almost too politely, standing in front of her with small bows the way noble children were expected to.
“Welcome back,” Olivia said softly.
“Thank you, Mother,” Max answered automatically.
Mike lowered his head slightly.
“Thank you for letting me go.”
Too formal.
Too careful.
Olivia’s eyes softened almost immediately.
Something happened.
Not dangerous.
But uncomfortable.
Likely the other noble families.
Especially for Mike.
Children noticed differences faster than adults did, and noble children were often cruel without realizing it.
Olivia crouched slightly so she could properly look at both of them.
“How was it?” she asked gently.
Silence.
Max glanced away.
That silence told her more than words could have.
Behind them, Peter stepped out of the carriage more slowly, watching the scene unfold without interrupting.
He noticed it too—the subtle tension in the boys, the guarded way they stood now compared to how relaxed they usually were around Olivia.
Olivia rose calmly as if nothing was wrong.
“Nura,” she called quietly.
“Yes, Grand Duchess?”
“Prepare tea in the sunroom.
And snacks.” After a short pause, she added, “The sweet strawberry ones Max likes.
And the honey biscuits for Mike.”
The boys looked up slightly at that.
Small reactions.
But Olivia noticed.
“Come inside first,” she said casually.
“You both look exhausted.”
Neither child argued.
Inside the sunroom, warm afternoon light spilled across the floor while servants quietly prepared the table.
Olivia deliberately sat beside the children instead of across from them, removing the invisible formality pressing on them.
Max held his teacup with both hands.
Mike sat very straight, careful not to touch anything unnecessarily.
Olivia watched them for a moment before speaking again.
“Did someone say something unpleasant?”
The question was calm.
Not angry.
But direct enough that both boys stiffened slightly.
Max frowned down at his tea.
Mike immediately shook his head.
“No.”
Too quickly.
Olivia leaned back slightly.
“I see,” she murmured.
Then, after a moment, she spoke again in the same calm voice.
“You know… adults like to pretend noble gatherings are elegant.” Her tone turned dry.
“Most of the time they’re just rooms full of people quietly judging each other.”
Max blinked in surprise.
Even Mike looked up slightly.
Olivia continued calmly, reaching for her tea.
“They judge titles.
Appearances.
Manners.
Bloodlines.” Her expression remained indifferent.
“People who have nothing better to feel proud about usually cling to those things the hardest.”
A small silence followed.
Then Max quietly muttered, “…They kept asking questions.”
Olivia’s gaze softened immediately.
“What kind of questions?”
Max hesitated before answering.
“…About Mike.”
Mike lowered his eyes instantly after that.
Peter, standing silently near the window, felt the atmosphere shift immediately.
“They asked why he was there,” Max continued more quietly.
“And if he was really staying with us.”
Mike’s fingers tightened slightly against his sleeve.
One noble child’s words echoed unpleasantly in his mind again.
‘He doesn’t look like he belongs here.’
Olivia noticed the subtle change in his expression immediately.
Without saying anything, she reached over and adjusted Mike’s collar gently, the gesture natural and familiar enough to interrupt his thoughts.
Then she spoke calmly.
“And what did you say?”
Max looked up at her.
“…That he’s with us.”
Olivia smiled softly.
“Good answer.”
Simple.
Firm.
Certain.
Something inside Mike loosened slightly at those words.
Olivia looked between both boys carefully before speaking again.
“You don’t need permission from other people to belong somewhere.”
Mike’s eyes lifted toward her slowly.
“And you don’t need to earn your place beside me either,” she added quietly.
The room fell silent after that.
Not uncomfortable.
Just still.
Max relaxed first, leaning slightly closer to her side without seeming to realize it.
A moment later, Mike did the same—small enough that most people wouldn’t notice.
But Olivia did.
She always did.
Behind them, Peter watched silently.
The children barely spoke.
Their reactions were subtle.
Careful.
Almost hidden.
And yet Olivia understood every single one without effort.
The way Max went quiet when upset instead of complaining.
The way Mike instinctively tried to make himself smaller whenever he felt unwelcome.
She noticed all of it.
And somehow… she answered every fear without making them feel exposed for having it.
Peter looked away briefly, something tight settling heavily in his chest again.
Because the warmth Olivia gave them wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It was consistent.
Quiet.
Safe.
And standing there in the sunlight-filled room, watching the boys slowly relax around her again, Peter realized something unsettling—
Olivia had become the kind of place children returned to when the world hurt them.