As I ended the call, a voice from behind sent a sharp jolt through my spine.
"You’re not my real mommy."
My breath caught.
I turned slowly, my heart pounding against my ribcage.
Lukas stood by the doorway, his small frame barely illuminated by the dim light of the hallway. His face was unreadable, but his eyes—those wide, knowing eyes—bore into mine like he had unraveled my entire existence.
A shaky smile forced its way onto my lips. "Lukas, what are you talking about?"
He frowned, his little hands curling into fists. "Mommy never gives me milk. Because I’m allergic."
Cold dread slithered down my spine.
I had given him a glass of milk that morning.
Shit.
I took a careful step forward, my voice soft. "I—I forgot, sweetheart. It won’t happen again."
But Lukas only took a step back, his lip trembling. Without another word, he turned and ran down the hallway.
Straight to Duke.
My pulse skyrocketed as I chased after him, my bare feet hitting the cold floor. "Lukas, wait!"
But it was too late.
Lukas threw open the door to Duke’s study, his voice shrill. "Daddy! Mommy gave me milk!"