Leo crawled forward and positioned himself directly in front of Elena, his small arms lifting, his body forming a barrier. He stared at Alexander—not with confusion, but with distrust.
Protective.
That moment hurt more than any accusation.
For years, Alexander had been “providing.” Traveling. Signing contracts. Paying experts. Trusting others to know his child better than he did. Somewhere along the way, he had become a stranger in his own home.
He lowered himself slowly until he was eye level with them, not caring that his suit darkened with damp grass. The clean, simple scent of detergent clung to Elena—so different from the controlled, perfumed world Charlotte curated.
“Since when?” he asked, his voice rough.
Elena looked at him, confused.
“Since when has he been like this?” Alexander repeated, pointing toward Leo. “Since when has he been laughing?”
Elena swallowed. Her gaze softened as she looked at the child, and something honest broke through her fear.
“Always,” she said quietly. “Ever since I started working here. He was shy at first, yes. But he’s not broken, sir. He’s… frightened.”
Alexander frowned, as if the word itself resisted him.
“Afraid? Of what?”
“He has everything.”