“Sir… your mother dismissed me,” she said, her voice shaking. “She said I’m not doing my job properly… that I’m becoming a distraction. But I swear—I love Noah. I take care of him like he’s my own. I would never—”
Her voice cracked completely.
Adrian felt something sharp twist in his chest.
Anger.
Cold, immediate anger.
“Enough,” he said quietly, his tone firm but not unkind. “You don’t need to explain yourself.”
He glanced down at Noah, who had already wrapped his tiny arms around Emma’s neck again, clinging to her as if afraid she might disappear.
“Get in the car,” Adrian added. “Both of you. I’m going to handle this.”
Emma hesitated.
“Sir, I don’t want to cause—”
“You’re not,” he interrupted. “I promise you that.”
There was something in his voice—steady, unwavering—that made her nod.
The ride back to the mansion was silent, but not empty. Noah sat between them in the back seat, holding Emma’s hand tightly, as if anchoring her there.
The mansion loomed ahead, grand and imposing, its tall gates opening slowly as the car approached.
Inside, everything was polished perfection—marble floors, high ceilings, portraits of ancestors lining the walls.
And at the center of it all stood Eleanor Walker.