CHAPTER FIVE
WYNTER
It’s been a full week since Catherine left.
Anika’s infection finally seems to be easing, and as I spoon cereal into her mouth, I notice the first real spark of herself returning. Her answers come quicker. Her eyes are brighter. She even rolled them at one of my jokes ten minutes ago, which I’m taking as progress.
A sharp ringing sound cuts through the room, and Anika frowns. “That’s the elevator alarm.”
I glance up. “The what now?”
“It means someone’s downstairs who doesn’t have access to come up.” She nods towards the bedroom door. “There’s a panel by the entrance. Press the button and the screen will show you who it is.”
“No one mentioned that,” I mutter, already heading out.
“It doesn’t usually go off. Visitors go to the main reception. Tell me who it is before you let them up,” she calls after me.
I press the panel and the screen flickers to life.
A man appears. Dark hair. Expensive coat. Handsome in a polished, dangerous sort of way. I don’t recognise him and before I can speak, he leans closer to the camera.
“It’s Luke,” he says. And then I spot Sebastian beside him. My stomach drops.
I hurry back into Anika’s room.
“It’s Luke,” I say. “And Sebastian’s with him.”
Her whole face changes. “Let him up.”
I stop dead. “What?”
“Let him up,” she repeats. “Sebastian might be unwell.”
My pulse kicks up. “But Ray specifically said—”
“I know what Ray said,” she snaps, then softens. “But if my son is sick, I need to see him.”
I hesitate as Ray’s voice rings loud in my head.
“Under no circumstances are you to let his father into the building. Not even if Anika tells you to.”
And now here I am, with Anika telling me to do exactly that.
“It’s fine,” she says, reading my expression. “Ray’s in meetings all afternoon. We don’t have to tell him.”
My chest tightens. That part feels worse somehow. I’m not just breaking the rule, I’m hiding it. And then that breaks the next rule—no lying.
Lying by omission.
I hate the fact that for one stupid second, I actually consider refusing her. But this is her son. And if Sebastian’s sick, how can I stand here and say no?
I let out a slow breath and turn back towards the hall.
I tell myself I’m only letting him drop Sebastian off. Nothing more. Still, guilt gnaws at me as I release the lift.
I wait by the entrance, my arms folded tightly across my chest.
The elevator doors slide open.
Luke steps out first, already looking annoyed, like this is all a massive inconvenience to him. Sebastian trails beside him, pale and quiet.
Luke barely spares me a glance.
“Is she through there?” he asks, already striding past.
“Wait.” I hurry after him. “You can’t just—”
He ignores me completely and heads straight for Anika’s room.
He reaches the doorway and stops dead. His whole body stills. His mouth opens, then closes, and for a moment, nobody says anything.
Then Anika’s eyes fill with tears. “What are you doing here?” she whispers.
Luke clears his throat. “Sebastian’s ill. School wouldn’t keep him. I’ve got work.”
Sebastian edges closer to me and presses himself against my side.
The second I put an arm around him, I feel the heat coming off him. He’s burning up.
“You need to go before Ray finds out you’re here,” Anika says, her voice trembling now.
Luke gives a short, humourless laugh. “He’s kept us apart for eighteen months. Aren’t you sick of him deciding who you can and can’t see?”
“Just leave,” she says. “Please. He’s still angry about court.”
Luke scoffs. “He was willing to give me weekends. Sebastian’s my son, not his.” He pauses, eyes hardening. “At least . . . I don’t think he is.”
My breath catches. Anika goes white. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Her voice is thin, strained. Then she looks at me. “Wynter, can you take Sebastian through to lie down? Give him some paracetamol and call Alga.”
I don’t move. Everything in me is screaming that I should call Ray, before this gets any worse, before Luke says something else cruel.
Before I become part of this mess in a way I can’t undo.
Anika sees the hesitation on my face. “And don’t call Ray,” she adds quietly. “He’ll be furious we let Luke up. He’ll only be here a minute.”
A minute.
Like that makes this better.
I look down at Sebastian, flushed and exhausted, his little body leaning into mine for comfort.
Then back at Anika.
Then at Luke.
My stomach twists. I already know this is a mistake, but the damage is done.
I help Sebastian into his pyjamas and tuck him into bed. He looks miserable, with his little cheeks flushed, and his lashes heavy with exhaustion. I set a bucket beside him, and measure out some children’s paracetamol, waiting while he swallows it with a grimace.
“I’ll stay close, okay,” I tell him softly. He nods, already curling into the pillows.
By the time I go back to check on Anika, Luke is just leaving.
Thank God.
I wait until I hear the elevator doors close before stepping fully into the room.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Anika doesn’t answer straight away. She’s staring at the doorway like she can still see him standing there.
“Ray can never know Luke was here, Wynter.” Her voice is low, urgent. “I mean it. It’s really important.”
A knot forms in my stomach, but I nod anyway. “Okay.”
She lets out a breath, but she still looks tense. “It’s hard enough stopping him from killing Luke as it is.”
The words catch me off guard. “Killing him?” I repeat, letting out a small, uncertain laugh.
Anika doesn’t smile. She doesn’t even blink. A chill skates down my spine, because it doesn’t sound like a figure of speech at all.
By teatime, Sebastian is feeling much better. He’s still a little pale, but the colour has come back to his cheeks, and his temperature has dropped enough for me to stop hovering over him every five seconds.
I take him into the kitchen and suggest we bake.
I used to do it with Mum when I was younger, and these days I’ve got more time on my hands than I know what to do with. We find a recipe online, and I start pulling ingredients from the cupboards while Sebastian reads out measurements like a tiny, bossy head chef.
He’s annoyingly good at it too.
“I wish Alga was this nice,” he says, tipping flour into the bowl with surprising precision.
I glance at him. “You don’t like her?”
I’ve only met his nanny a couple times, but she seems pleasant enough.
Sebastian shrugs. “She’s okay. She just likes Uncle Ray too much.”
I laugh, reaching for the eggs. “What does that mean?”
“She’s always asking questions about him.”
“That doesn’t sound too terrible.”
“It is when you don’t want to answer them.” He wrinkles his nose. “So, I told her he had a girlfriend.”
I freeze halfway through cracking an egg. “You did what?”
He shrugs again, utterly unbothered. “I thought she’d stop asking if I said that.”
I stare at him. “Sebastian . . .”
He tips his head. “White lies are okay.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are they?”
Before he can answer, a deep voice cuts in from behind me. “A lie’s a lie.” I jump so hard, I nearly drop the egg.
Honestly, one of these days, Ray is going to sneak up on me and send me into cardiac arrest.
He strides into the kitchen. “But,” he adds, looking at Sebastian, “I appreciate you looking out for me, kid.” Sebastian beams, then Ray’s expression shifts. “Why are you home from school?” he asks. “And where’s Alga?”
My pulse spikes. Sebastian answers first, far too proudly. “I was sick. In Dad’s car.”
Ray lets out a laugh and holds up his hand for a high five. “Well played.” His eyes come to me. “How did he get home?”
My stomach drops, and I force myself not to hesitate. “Luke brought him,” I say, keeping my voice as steady as I can. “I met him outside.”
The lie feels huge the moment it leaves my mouth. I don’t dare meet his eyes for more than a second, terrified he’ll see the truth written all over my face.
He studies me for a beat that feels far too long, then says, “Okay. And Alga?”
“She went to do a food shop since she didn’t need to collect Sebastian from school. I said I’d watch him.”
Another lie. Smaller but still enough to make my skin prickle.
If he ever finds out, I’m dead. Not literally. Probably. Hopefully.
“And what are you two doing?” he asks, stepping closer.
He leans over my shoulder to peer into the bowl, and the heat of him at my back sends a flutter through my stomach that I absolutely do not want to examine too closely.
“Wynter’s teaching me to bake a cake,” Sebastian says proudly.
“Is she?” Ray asks, scepticism dripping from every word.
I laugh despite myself. “I can make cakes.”
A small smile tugs at his mouth. It catches me off guard. I’m so used to the scowls and clipped replies that the expression almost changes his whole face.
He takes a seat opposite us at the island, his long legs stretching out beneath the stool.
“Uncle Ray, show Wynter your Eminem impression,” Sebastian says, grinning.
To my surprise, Ray actually laughs. It’s real, warm and unexpected. The sound skims over my skin and leaves goosebumps in its wake.
He shakes his head. “I told you, kid. That’s for your eyes only.”
I blink at him, trying and failing to picture Ray Carmichael bouncing around a room rapping to Eminem.
“Uncle Ray grew up on the streets,” Sebastian announces importantly.
Ray’s smile disappears, but before he can say anything, Sebastian flicks the mixer on and flour explodes everywhere. I watch in horror as butter spatters across the island.
For one second, nobody moves.
Then I burst out laughing, I can’t hold it in. The shock on Ray’s face is priceless.
Sebastian stands frozen, his mouth hanging open as flour clings to his lashes and dusts his hair white.
Ray is completely still. Deadly still. Sebastian blinks up at him.
“You better run,” Ray says quietly.
Sebastian gasps. Then he lets out a squeal of laughter, grabs my arm, and bolts.
“Quick, Wynter, run!”
I’m laughing too hard to do anything, but I let him drag me with him as we race out of the kitchen, Ray’s footsteps thundering behind us.