Chapter 6

The small space inside his chest felt stuffed with cotton, so tight and heavy he could barely breathe.

Gilbert clenched his little fists, turned, and ran back to his room. He grabbed his watch phone and, without even thinking, dialed the number he knew by heart.

The phone rang for a long time. Just when he thought no one was going to answer, the call connected.

"Mom…" The word came out shaky, already thick with tears.

But he only got those two letters out before the call was cut off cleanly.

Gilbert froze, listening to the dead line. Then the tears came, big and fast, spilling down his face.

The next morning, Gilbert overslept for the first time ever.

By the time he scrambled downstairs, Aaron had already left.

Uma hurried to sling his backpack over his shoulders and pulled him toward the door. "Come on, Gilbert, we're gonna be late."

Once they were in the car, Uma couldn't help muttering, "Back when Mrs. Harvey was here, she never would've let you sleep in. She was up at five-thirty every morning, making your breakfast, timing everything so she could wake you up right on schedule. She'd even lay your clothes out by the bed."

"When you were little, your stomach was so sensitive that she taught herself nutrition and kept coming up with different meals for you. And now look at this. You eat whatever you want. You had all that sugar last night, and of course you don't feel great this morning…"

Uma's words landed in Gilbert's heart one after another, like pebbles dropped into still water.

He remembered Hestia frowning as she said, "You can't eat that."

He remembered how she checked his homework every single night without fail.

He remembered being sick and waking in the middle of the night to find her still holding him, still awake.

All the nagging and rules he had once hated felt painfully clear now.

They didn't speak for the rest of the drive. Soon, the car pulled up outside the kindergarten, and Gilbert climbed out with his backpack on, walking silently toward the gate. His small figure looked strangely lonely.

Elsewhere, Hestia ended the call and blocked Gilbert's number without hesitation.

She didn't want to hear his voice again. She didn't want anyone or anything connected to the Harvey Family tugging at her emotions anymore.

She tossed her phone aside, picked up her sketchbook, and forced all her focus into lines, shadow, and light.

When Dione pushed open the door, this was the scene she walked into.

Hestia sat at her worktable, the dark night beyond the window and the warm indoor light shaping the line of her profile. She looked calm and intent, beautiful in that quiet way that felt almost painted.

"Hestia," Dione said, lowering her voice as she stepped closer. "Still working? I've got something for you."

She handed over a gold-embossed invitation as if it were a treasure. "Tomorrow night's the NobleTech Group business dinner. I pulled some strings through a friend. Events like this are packed with brand reps and investors. It'll help when you're ready to launch your studio."

Hestia took the invitation, her fingertips brushing over the elegant raised pattern. Her gaze shifted slightly.

She understood what this was. The first step back into her own career. She had to take it.

"Okay."

The next night, the ballroom glittered with designer gowns, polished shoes, and the soft clink of glasses.

Hestia wore a sharply tailored black evening dress. Her softly curled hair was pinned up, exposing the graceful line of her neck. Her makeup was light, but her red lipstick was vivid.

The gentleness and softness she used to wear had fallen away. In its place was something cooler, sharper, more self-possessed, like a blade just drawn from its sheath.

"Hestia, you look insane tonight." Dione hooked her arm through hers, eyes wide with admiration. "This is exactly how it should be. Let them see that without them, you're only doing better."

They had barely reached the entrance when both of them stopped.

Not far away, Aaron was walking toward them, pushing Clio in her wheelchair.

Aaron was dressed in a perfectly cut suit, tall and striking. Clio wore a soft white dress, all gentle elegance, and the pair drew glances from every direction.

"Isn't that Mr. Harvey from The Harvey Group? He really is devoted to that woman who saved his life. He takes her everywhere himself."

"No kidding. I heard he barely goes home anymore because of her. Mrs. Harvey's pretty pitiful, stuck in a marriage that's just a shell."

"Isn't that Mrs. Harvey over there? Why did she come alone?"

The whispers were quiet, but not so quiet that the people involved couldn't hear them.

A flicker of smugness crossed Clio's face before she lifted her head and gave Hestia a soft smile. "Hestia, you're here. Why didn't you come say hi? Aaron was just saying he hadn't seen you in forever."

The tone was warm, polished, and deeply calculated, as if she were the mistress of the Harvey Family welcoming an old acquaintance.

Hestia's expression didn't change. It was as though she hadn't heard the hidden edge in Clio's words at all. She gave a small nod, looped her arm through Dione's, and walked straight past them without sparing either of them an extra glance.

Aaron's gaze settled on her and tightened.

Hestia looked different tonight.

He had never seen that dress before. The fitted cut traced every curve of her figure with ruthless precision, and the skin it revealed looked almost luminous beneath the lights.

Most of all, when she passed him without even looking his way, something hot and irrational stirred inside him, sharp with annoyance.

"Aaron, let's go in." Clio's voice snapped him back.

He pressed down that flash of irritation and pushed her into the ballroom.

Inside, Hestia found her rhythm quickly.

She moved through the crowd with easy poise, speaking with several well-known brand executives in the industry. From fabric performance to the latest tailoring techniques to shifting market trends, she spoke with confidence and precision.

The men around her were visibly impressed by her expertise.

"Aaron, your wife is something else." One of Aaron's business associates walked over with a drink in hand, openly impressed. "I figured Mrs. Harvey was just a pretty woman kept out of the spotlight. Didn't expect her to know the industry this well. She's sharp. Rare kind of partner."

Aaron's eyes tracked that slender, upright figure almost against his will.

He watched her laughing and talking with other people, watched the brightness in her expression, the spark he had never really seen before.

The Hestia in his memory had always been quiet, always one step behind him, her gaze fixed on him alone, gentle and obedient.

When had she become someone other people noticed?

When had she become someone who shone?

The feeling unsettled him. It was like something that had once belonged to him had suddenly developed a will of its own. It was glaring. Inconvenient.

Across the room, Hestia was speaking with Marc Murray, the biggest fabric supplier in the country.

Marc was notorious for doing business over drinks. If she wanted his contract, she had to play along.

Hestia drank one glass after another while Marc watched her with hooded, lingering eyes. After several rounds, he started getting handsy, placing his palm over the back of her hand.

"Ms. Sharp," he said, voice thick with alcohol, "how about I drive you home later?"

Inside, Hestia cursed him out ten times over. Outwardly, she only slid her hand away. "I already have a driver."

"A driver-for-hire isn't the same as your own personal one, is it?" he said, pouring her another drink as he spoke.

Hestia was already getting dizzy. She wanted to stall for time, but Marc's gaze stayed fixed on her glass, and she had no choice but to pick it up and keep drinking.

"Ms. Sharp, I like a woman who can drink. Shows sincerity." Marc laughed, his beer belly pushing against his suit, his flushed face shiny under the lights. Then he filled her glass again. "Come on. Finish this one, and we'll call the contract settled."

This was the fifth glass.

The liquor burned all the way down her throat, then hit her stomach like fire. Her face had already flushed, though her eyes remained clear.

She knew she was close to her limit.

But she couldn't let this chance slip away.

Drawing a slow breath, Hestia lifted her glass and was just about to drink when a large, well-defined hand reached over and caught her wrist.

"Mr. Murray," Aaron said, his voice low and even, "my wife can't hold her liquor. I'll finish the rest for her."