CORINNE
”To grieve and… you know, move on.”
”With two five year olds,” Amelia said, shaking her head.
“That can’t be easy.
Handling all that alone.”
”Those boys deserve a mother figure.”
”And he deserves someone too,” Melissa said, eyes a little too bright.
“I mean… look at him.
Tall, rich, grieving.
That’s like a walking romance novel.”
A few of them laughed.
“If I were single,” one said, lowering her voice dramatically, “I’d throw myself at him.
No shame.”
”Oh please,” another scoffed.
“You’d be fighting half the parents here.”
”I wouldn’t mind,” Melissa said with a grin.
“Someone needs to keep him company.
Men like that get lonely.”
I stared into my cup, my patience thinning by the second.
This was getting ridiculous.
They weren’t even whispering anymore.
Just openly speculating about a man’s dead wife and his supposed loneliness.
I’d heard enough of this nonsense and had zero intention of sticking around to gossip about a man’s life like it was lunchtime entertainment.
I glanced toward the hallway, looking for an opening to escape when another voice cut in.
“It’s probably because of the child.”
I stopped.
“The child?” I repeated before I could help myself, turning back.
She hesitated, suddenly less confident.
“You know… um.
One of the twins.
The quieter one.” She waved a vague hand, searching for the right words and failing.
“The… the disabled one, I think?”
The word hit me wrong.
“I mean,” she rushed on, clearly realizing she’d said something she shouldn’t have, “not disabled-disabled but you know… difficult.
Skittish.
Who would even want to be a stepmom to a boy like that?”
Something hot and sharp flared in my chest. The source of this chapter is g.com.
“First of all,” I said, cutting in before she could dig herself any deeper, “his name is Elias.”
The circle went quiet.
“And he’s not disabled,” I continued, slower now so I’d get my point across.
“He’s an intelligent child actually and I doubt being on the spectrum equals him being called difficult.”
I lifted my cup with a tight smile, suddenly very aware of how tight my grip was.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to catch up with.”
I didn’t wait for a response.
Didn’t give anyone the chance to backpedal or laugh it off or pretend they hadn’t just said something ugly.
Did I really have that much work to do?
Yes.
No.
That wasn’t the point.
It took everything in me not to turn back and unload every thought sitting on the tip of my tongue.
Not to spell out exactly how cruel it was to turn a child into a problem in someone else’s fantasy life.
But the last thing I needed was to make enemies here.
So I walked away.
Against my better judgment, I was starting to understand why Lucian had said he didn’t want to turn his kids lives into a circus.
He hadn’t been exaggerating.
His presence did things to people.
Drew eyes, pulled whispers out of nowhere, made grown adults forget their manners.
And kids like Elias didn’t need that kind of attention hovering over them.
That thought was still tumbling around in my head when I stepped into my office.
I stopped when I noticed a gift bag on my desk.
It was neatly sitting there, looking completely out of place among my scattered papers and half graded worksheets.
I set my coffee down carefully and reached for the bag, more confused than anything else.
Someone probably dropped it off at the wrong desk, it wouldn’t be the first time.
I pulled out the box inside, turning it over in my hands.
It was sleek and expensive looking, which only added to the confusion.
My brows knit together as I opened it.
A diamond necklace sat nestled inside.
I stared at it, my mind scrambling to catch up.
This didn’t make sense.
Teachers got gifts all the time, so this could probably be some awkward parent gesture but on a second thought, this was too expensive for a school office.
That was when I noticed the folded piece of paper tucked beside the necklace.
I slowly picked it up and unfolded it.
There was only one line written on it.
“I know who you are, Corinne.”
A muffled scream tore out of my throat before I could stop it.
I slapped a hand over my mouth as the box slipped from my fingers and hit the floor, the necklace scattering against the tiles.
I didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
My hands were shaking so badly I had to press them against my thighs to keep me upright.
No.
There’s no way.
It’s been three years.
Three careful, quiet years.
I disappeared properly.
I made sure of it.
There’s no way my ex‑fiancé has found me.