Chapter 11

Annie's POV

It was another day of sun. How lovely the morning was after whatever had happened these days. I thought as I made my way toward Lucy's room. A week of late nights researching selective mutism treatments had left me exhausted, but Lucy's progress made every bleary-eyed morning worth it.

As I passed Howard's bedroom, I noticed a warm glow beneath the door-the same gentle light I'd seen from his study last night as he worked late again. The familiar scent of his morning coffee was notably absent, and something in my chest tightened at the realization.

"A week now," I murmured to myself, the words barely a whisper."Always leaving early, coming home lae..." I caught myself and shook my head. What right did I have to mniss his presence? I was here for Lucy,nothing more.

"Mr. Thompson left for the office at five this morning, ma'am,"Maria informed me as I passed the kitchen. "Another early meeting."

I nodded, ignoring the small pang of disappointment. Focus on Lucy,I reminded myself. She needed consistency, routine, care - not a guardian distracted by inappropriate feelings for her uncle. Lucy's room was awashin morning sunshine when I entered. She sat at her vanity, already dressed in her school uniform, waiting patiently for our morning ritual. I gathered her golden hair in my hands, marveling at how this simple act of braiding had become something sacred between us. "How about a French braid today?" I suggested, meeting her eyes in the mirror. Her answering smile lit up her face, and then she spoke softly: "Can we do the special braid like yesterday?"

"Of course,sweetheart," I said, my voice thick with emotion. JuIst a week ago, she wouldn't have spoken at all. This small request, this tiny step forward, meant everything.

After sending Lucy to school, the mansion felt cavernous. I tried to lose myself in my usual routine - dividing time between studying selective mutism treatment books and sketching in my notebook.

Drawing had been my escape even before the divorce, a way to connect with Brian through art. Now, alone in the sunny study, my pencil moved almost unconsciously across the paper, capturing memories of teaching him how to draw his beloved dinosaurs.

I paused, studying the half-finished sketch. Without Brian, even art felt different. More solitary. And lately I'd found myself drawn to new subjects - Lucy's delicate profile as she watched birds through the window, the way sunlight played across the mansion's elegant architecture. My fingers itched to capture the quiet strength in Howard's bearing,how his controlled demeanor contrasted with his warm eyes... I quickly closed my sketchbook, cheeks warming. He has more important things to worry about than my amateur drawings, I scolded myself. Still, I couldn't help but notice how the study felt colder without his presence,how the halls echoed a little too loudly with just Lucy and me to fill them. My eyes drifted back to the selective mutism texts spread across the desk.Somewhere in these pages lay the key to helping Lucy find her voice again.If only Howard could see her small but steady progress - the almost- words that sometimes trembled on her lips, the way she was beginning to communicate through art just as I once had with Brian...

Stop it. I told myself firmly. He's working. The last thing he needs is to be bothered with my observations.

The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on the Upper East Side Private Preschool. As Lucy and I approached the gates, I saw Brian standing near a teacher, his small shoulders set in that stubborn line I knew so well.

"Your father said he's still in a meeting and you mom's in charge of picking you up," The teacher was saying gently. "And your mother..."

"My real mom is coming!" Brian snapped, but I caught the tremor beneath his bravado. "Sarah promised she'd be here!"

Lucy's hand tightened in mine as she sensed the tension.

"She's just running late," Brian continued, his voice rising. "She has to come.She promised!"

"Brian," I said softly, unable to stop myself.

He whirled around, his face flushed. "Why are you here? Picking up Lucy?

The words were meant to wound, but something in his eyes - a flicker of uncertainty,a shadow of fear.

"Yes," I kept my voice steady. "I'm picking up Lucy."

"I don't care!"His shout echoed across the nearly empty schoolyard."You're not my mom anymore. Sarah loves me more than you ever did!" Lucy pressed closer to my side as Brian's voice cracked on the last word.

"T'm sure she's just stuck in traffic," The teacher offered weakly, checking her phone again. "These streets can be unpredictable."

But something felt wrong. Sarah, who had orchestrated every detail of stealing my son, who never missed an opportunity to play the perfect mother- she wasn't here? The Sarah I thought would never waste a chance to showcase her victory, to twist the knife deeper. Her absence felt deliberate.calculated.

Maybe I should take him home, back to his of course.

I watched as he furiously wiped his eyes with his sleeve, determined to hide his tears. The memory of the hospital stairs flashed unbidden through my mind - his cold eyes as I fell, the calculated cruelty of it all.Even knowing Sarah had manipulated him, the wound was still too fresh to ignore.

Lucy's small hand tightened in mine, her silent support grounding me in the present. As we turned to leave, I stole a glance at Brian until we rounded the corner.

I could forgive him, but not now.

After the hiccup, I took Lucy toward the car.

"What's this?" I asked as Lucy tugged my sleeve, pointing a poster in her hands.

"Emma says there's a new theme park near her house,"she said, not very fluently or loudly. Her hopeful eyes met mine in the rearview mirror.

"Would you like to go this weekend? But of course we would need your uncle's approval." Theenthusiastic nodding that followed made me laugh.My heart leaped - this was the most initiative she'd shown yet! Howard would want to know about this. The thought of starting a conversation with him sent an unexpected thrill through me.

This was no news to talk about on the phone. I would tell him in person!

Stop it, I chided myself. He's Lucy's uncle, your employer essentially.These feelings are inappropriate. But as Lucy started planning our weekend adventure, I couldn't help wondering if Howard might join us.The image of him watching Lucy play, that careful mask softening into genuine joy, was almost painfully appealing.

I was so weak.