Chapter 32

Annie's POV

Howard's car pulled up to the preschool just as classes were letting out.Through the afternoon crowd, I spotted Lucy standing apart from her classmates. My heart tightened as I watched hertry to suppress a smile at seeing us - an unconscious habit that spoke volumes about her struggle to express joy.

"How was your day, sweetheart?" I asked as we approached.

Lucy's fingers twisted in her skirt as she stared at the ground. Her silence felt heavier than usual, carrying an weight that made Howard straighten beside me. Without a word, he strode toward Lucy's teacher, his CEO presence commanding immediate attention even in this casual setting.

I knelt to Lucy's level, noting how she held herself - too composed for a five-year-old. She gave a tiny nod when I squeezed her hand, then quickly looked around as if checking who might have noticed this small display of emotion.

Howard returned moments later, a slight crease between his brows. "The teacher noticed nothing unusual," he said quietly, "but she'll pay closer attention and keep us informed." The careful way he delivered this message suggested he wasn't entirely satisfied with the response.

In the sanctuary of Howard's car, Lucy's rigid posture gradually relaxed.I watched her small fingers trace patterns on the leather seat,her mind clearly elsewhere. "You know," I began carefully, "when I first moved to New York, I felt very alone too." Lucy's eyes flickered to mine in the rearview mirror."I started small - just saying good morning to the doorman each day. It wasn't much, but it was a start."

Lucy's gaze shifted to Thomas, our driver who had been with the Thompson family for years. I could see her wanting to try, the way her lips parted slightly before closing again in frustration.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, fingers curling into tight fists in her lap."I want to,but..."

"Hey." I turned in my seat to face her fully. "You have nothing to apologize for. The fact that you want to try? That's already incredibly brave."

Howard's hand moved almost imperceptibly on the armrest between us, as if he'd started to reach out before catching himself. These moments of restrained tenderness were becoming more frequent, each one making my heart flutter in ways I tried not to examine too closely.

"I have something that might cheer you up." I reached into my bag.pulling out a carefully wrapped package. "I saw this and thought of you."

Lucy accepted the gift with characteristic care, her fingers ghosting over the ribbon before carefully untying it. Inside lay a dress in the softest shade of lavender, with tiny embroidered butterflies along the hem.

Lucy's small fingers traced the embroidered butterflies with wonder. Then she looked up at me with those solemn eyes. "But you already taught me how to draw butterflies this morning," she whispered, carefully pulling out a folded paper from her school bag to show me her practice attempts. "I wanted to draw more before..." My throat tightened at her response-this sweet child who wanted to prove herself worthy of every small kindness. "That's what family does.sweetheart. We share what we love." "You know what I think we need?"I kept my voice light. "A celebration. What do you say we grab some dinner out?"

Lucy's eyes lit up. though she quickly glanced at Howard before allowing herself to show too much enthusiasm. "Could we... could we go to the food stalls?"

Howard's reflection in the window couldn't quite hide his smile. "Thomas,take us downtown."

Lucy led our unlikely procession through the maze of food stalls with surprising confidence. She might struggle with words, but her strategic thinking was impressive - efficiently dispatching Howard to wait in the longest line while she guided me to collect other delicacies from shorter queues.

We claimed a small table, spreading out our feast. Lucy's eyes sparkled as she surveyed our haul, carefully selecting which dish to try first.

"Careful with the spicy ones," Howard cautioned, reaching across to move certain dishes further from her reach. The gesture was so paternal it made my chest ache. Lucy was lost in the simple joy of her meal, savoring each bite with childlike delight. For a brief moment, she was just a carefree five-year-old enjoying dinner with her family. As we were cleanng up, a sharp voice sliced through the peaceful evening atmosphere.

"Well, well. Annie Baker." Allen's tone dripped with condescension as he approached our table, his lip curling slíghtly. "Playing happy families with the Thompsons now? I have to say, you've certainly moved up in the world since Philip."

The insinuation in his voice made my skin crawl, but I refused to shrink under his judgmental stare. The old Annie might have apologized for simply existing. Not anymore.

"Allen." I met his gaze steadily. "Still fighting Philip's battles for him? Or did Sarah send you this time?"

His face reddened. "At least Sarah and Philip's relationship is honest.Unlike whatever..." he waved his hand dismissively at our little group,"scheme you're running here. Using a traumatized child to worm your way into a wealthy family? That's low, even for you."

Howard,who had been watching the exchange with deceptive calm,shifted almost imperceptibly. When he spoke, his voice carried the quiet authority that could silence a boardroom. "I don't believe we've been introduced.Though I must say,your eagerness to criticize arrangements you know nothing about is... telling."

"Look, I'm just trying to-" Allen started, but Howard cuit him off. "To what? Defend Philip's honor?" Howard's tone was precise,surgical."Or perhaps you're simply uncomfortable seeing Annie succeed without your...approval?" I couldn't help adding, "You know what's truly disappointing, Allen?Learning how quickly your moral compass adjusts to suit your audience." Allen opened and closed his mouth, clearly unprepared for both of us to stand our ground. His face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

"Tll make sure Philip knows about this," he finally managed, trying to regain some authority in his voice. "He should hear how you're... taking advantage of people's sympathy."

The threat fell flat, sounding more like the desperate final play of someone who'd lost an argument. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"By all means, tell him," I replied calmly. "I'm sure he'll be fascinated by your sudden concern for my career choices."