The morning light seeped through the tall windows of Caliste's office, washing the room in a golden glow. Sketches and swatches were strewn across her desk, the usual evidence of her passion and craft. Yet today, none of it could hold her attention. Her mind kept circling back to that night..the boy's smile, the warmth of his small hand against hers, and the way her blood had run cold when she saw who waited for him.
Lucian Velmore.
And that boy… her boy.
The knock at her door snapped her from the spiral. Her secretary, Mari, peeked in with her usual gentle smile.
"Ma'am, may I come in?"
Caliste straightened, smoothing her skirt to mask the tremor in her hands. "Yes, Mari. Please."
Mari entered, setting a folder on the desk, but she lingered as though weighing her words. "If I may, Ms. Caliste… you've seemed distracted since the Rebeiro Gala. Is something troubling you?"
Caliste hesitated. She trusted Mari, perhaps more than anyone else in her current life. And the ache in her heart was too heavy to bear alone.
"I want you to tell me everything you know about Lucian Velmore's child," she said at last, her voice low but steady.
Mari blinked, startled. "The young master?"
At the title, something sharp twisted inside Caliste. She nodded. "Yes. Everything the world has said about him. Spare no detail."
Mari pulled out a chair and sat, folding her hands in her lap. "It was three years ago when the Velmores shocked society. Lucian had been engaged to the Atrielle family's eldest daughter everyone expected a grand wedding that would merge two powerful houses. But at the last moment, Lucian withdrew. Days later, he appeared publicly holding an infant. He declared him his heir."
Caliste's throat closed. Three years ago. The same time I gave birth.
"Of course, rumors spread," Mari continued. "Many claimed the child wasn't his. Some accused him of taking in another's baby. But Lady Victoria Velmore the matriarch herself ordered a DNA test. She wanted the truth before the family's legacy was tied to a child."
Mari's eyes softened, remembering the reports. "The results were undeniable. Ninety-nine percent match. The child was Lucian's blood. After that, the Velmores silenced every doubt. They embraced the boy fully, and Lady Victoria herself proclaimed him the future of their lineage. She… she is said to dote on him more than anyone."
Caliste felt her heart shatter piece by piece. Her son her flesh and blood was being raised as the treasured heir of a house that had taken everything from her. He was surrounded by guards, power, and the unwavering protection of Victoria Velmore, the iron-willed matriarch who had survived three generations of cutthroat business wars.
He is safe there, Caliste whispered inwardly, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. Safer than he could ever be with me. Lucian has power. The Velmores have influence. No harm can touch him in their ward.
Yet no matter how she tried to convince herself, the ache in her chest refused to ease.
"Society calls him the miracle heir," Mari added softly. "Lucian is… different with him. Even his rivals admit he has never been so protective over anyone. The boy is shielded from scandal, from politics, from harm. They say Lucian rarely lets him out of sight."
Caliste bowed her head, tears sliding silently onto her hands. She had told herself for years that signing that agreement was the only choice that she was too broken, too powerless, too cornered by Lucian's wrath to fight for her right as a mother.
And perhaps she had been right. In Lucian's ward, their child was untouchable. He had what she could never give him: safety, status, a future.
But that truth did not ease the guilt that consumed her.
She had missed his first steps.
His first words.
His first laugh.
All because she had chosen to let go.
---
For nights afterward, Caliste could not sleep. Her bed felt like a cage, each tick of the clock a reminder of her absence in her child's life. She tried to distract herself with sketches, but every gown she designed seemed to mirror the soft colors of the boy's suit that night. Every line curved into the outline of his small, delicate face.
One evening, unable to bear the silence, she whispered to the darkness, "I am a coward." Her voice cracked, breaking into sobs. "I gave up my son. I abandoned him… and for what? To heal myself?"
Her tears soaked her pillow, but still she tried to rationalize.
"He is safer with Lucian. With Victoria. He has what I cannot give."
The words repeated like a prayer, but her heart rejected them. Safety was not the same as love. And though Lucian might protect him, who would cradle him when he was afraid? Who would soothe him when he cried in the night?
That should have been me.
The guilt clawed deeper, and beneath it, another emotion stirred anger.
At Lucian.
For taking the child from her arms. For using him as proof of his dominance before the world. For erasing her existence from the boy's life so completely that even society believed she had never been part of his story.
Her voice trembled in the stillness. "You'll never understand what you've done to me, Lucian Velmore."
---
Days turned into weeks, and still the torment didn't leave her. Outwardly, she was the picture of grace the celebrated designer who dazzled at galas, who charmed the elite with her wit, who turned fabrics into art. But inside, she was unraveling thread by thread.
Every newspaper headline about the Velmore heir felt like a dagger. Every whispered praise of Lucian as a devoted father burned like fire in her chest.
She wanted to scream at the world, That is my child too!
But she couldn't. The ink on that agreement was unbreakable. Her own signature chained her silence.
Yet, when she stared into the mirror late at night, another vow formed quiet but fierce.
"One day… I will see him again. Not as a stranger. Not as a ghost. But as his mother."
Her tears fell, but her gaze hardened with resolve.
Lucian Velmore might hold all the power. The Velmores might guard her child behind walls of wealth and influence. But Caliste's heart knew no surrender.
Her story with Lucian wasn't over.
Not yet.