One splash. One red stain. And my life fell apart all over again.
Working event shifts wasn't glamorous—
it was survival.
Four years had passed since that night with the blue-eyed stranger.
Four years of raising my son alone.
Four years of juggling bills, exhaustion, and Adrien's mischievous little grin.
He was almost four now—blue eyes bright as lightning, cheeks flushed with excitement, bowtie crooked from constant fidgeting.
"Mommy, can I go play?" he tugged my skirt, practically vibrating.
"Stay close. No running," I whispered, fixing his bowtie. "Behave for Mommy."
He nodded.
A lie.
That sparkle in his eyes always meant chaos was loading.
The ballroom glowed with wealth—crystal chandeliers, champagne laughter, women dripping diamonds, men talking deals worth more than my entire life. A pianist played something expensive. I balanced a tray and smiled on autopilot while Adrien crouched near the snack table, pretending to be innocent.
Then—
A splash. A gasp. A streak of red.
My stomach dropped.
A small red juice bottle rolled across marble like a tiny murder weapon.
I spotted him—Adrien—frozen, clutching an empty cup, eyes wide, terrified.
In front of him stood a blonde goddess, her silk white gown now splattered with bright red juice.
"You stupid—how dare you?!" she snapped, voice slicing through the music.
Adrien's lip quivered. "Sowee…" he whispered, blue eyes filling with tears.
Something shattered in me.
"You annoying little thing," she hissed. "Who owns this irresponsible monkey?"
I ran.
No thinking—just instinct.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am—he's a child, please—"
But my apology died in my throat.
Her eyes.
Green. Sharp.
Familiar in a way that punched the breath out of me.
I knew those eyes…
or something inside me recognized them.
Kendella—the blonde—glared at me like I was dirt under her heel. "You own this brat? Teach him manners before letting him loose."
Before I could speak, another woman stepped beside her.
Older. Elegant. Black hair.
Eyes the same deep green as mine.
And the moment our gazes locked—
something inside me stilled.
Recognition.
Shock.
A strange, aching familiarity neither of us understood.
Her breath hitched.
So did mine.
"Kendella," the woman murmured calmly, touching her daughter's arm, "he apologized. He's just a sweet little boy. Let it go."
Kendella jerked her arm away. "You're defending her? Mother, this woman—and her wild rat of a child—ruined my dress!"
My jaw tightened.
No more apologizing.
"My son said sorry," I said, voice low but steady. "Accidents happen. That doesn't give you the right to insult him."
Her eyes went murderous.
She raised her hand.
And I caught it.
Firm.
Deadly calm.
A gasp rippled through the ballroom.
Glasses clinked.
Someone whispered my name.
The older woman watched the scene unfold, a flicker of something like pride in her expression—
a pride she had no right to feel, and I had no idea why it burned in my chest.
My manager sprinted toward us, face red with panic.
"Aurielle! What—what the hell are you doing? You're jeopardizing the entire event!"
I didn't even let him finish.
"You're fir—"
"I quit," I cut in smoothly, unclipping my cheap name tag and handing it to him. "I'm not working in a place where people treat children like trash."
Gasps.
Wide eyes.
Silence.
Adrien slid his hand into mine, gripping tight.
"Mommy… did I do bad?" he whispered.
"No, baby," I choked out. "You were perfect."
I walked out, holding his hand, chin high, heart pounding.
Behind me, I felt eyes burning into my back—
judgment, curiosity, recognition, and something darker.
I had no idea then that I had just walked away from my birthright.
⸻
Later — Home
Our apartment door creaked open, revealing laundry piles, crayons on the floor, stale coffee on the counter—home. Chaotic, cramped, imperfect… but ours.
"You're home early."
Jason leaned against the wall, arms crossed, messy blond hair falling into his eyes, smirk already loaded. "Trouble in paradise?"
"Don't start," I sighed.
He held up an envelope.
White. Thick. Official.
"Something I think you'll want."
Adrien didn't wait—he sprinted into his arms. "Uncle Jason!"
Jason ruffled his hair, grinning before handing me the envelope.
Suspicion curled in my stomach.
"Jason… what is this?"
"Open it."
I tore it open—and froze.
D'Angelo Company.
Assistant position.
Interview invitation.
My hands shook.
"You—Jason—how did you even get this?"
He shrugged carelessly.
"Let's just say I know things. And opportunities show up when you need them most."
I stared at the bold logo, heart pounding.
Tomorrow…
everything could change.
And I had no idea I was about to walk straight into the center of the empire I'd been born to.