Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Anthea
"What are you doing?" I snapped, stopping them in their tracks. "Why do you treat a classmate like that? Why attack someone with that kind of vicious language?"
The boys jumped, turning to stare at me.
"Who... who are you?" one of them stammered.
I walked over and pulled Olei to his feet, stepping between them. "I'm your teacher. So, bullying a classmate—you think that's fun?"
"We just said a few things to him. He never wants to play with us anyway," the chubby boy mumbled defensively.
"Mocking a classmate for not having a mother—do you have any idea how much that hurts?" I lowered my voice, my eyes sweeping across each young face. "And whether or not he wants to play with you is his choice. You don't get to bully him over it."
The boys exchanged glances. Some lowered their heads.
"Apologize to him. Now." I stared down the little troublemakers until they squirmed.
A few muttered reluctant "sorry"s before scattering.
I sighed, then crouched down to Olei's eye level. God, I could finally get a good look at my child.
"Let me check if you're hurt." My voice came out barely above a whisper, like I was afraid of startling something fragile. I reached for his knee.
He stared at me, but didn't pull away. His pants were torn, the skin on his knee scraped raw and bleeding.
"Does it hurt?" I bit my lip, though I already knew the answer.
This kind of scrape would bother an adult, let alone a child this small.
He shook his head, turning his face away. "No. Doesn't hurt at all."
"Let me clean it up, okay? If it gets infected, that won't be good." I kept my voice gentle as I pulled a band-aid from my pocket.
Years of teaching elementary school had trained me to carry these things everywhere.
He glanced back at me. I saw tears shining in his eyes, but they didn't fall.
"Are you the new teacher?" His voice was soft, with a slight sniffle.
"Yes." I fought to steady my trembling hands as I smoothed the bandage over his knee. "My name is Anthea Carter. What's yours?"
"I'm Olei," he said quietly.
I froze. I hadn't expected the name Olei to stick. Vanessa had spent so much energy asserting her presence—I'd assumed she would never let my son keep the name I'd chosen.
Hearing Olei from his lips felt like an echo of fate. My eyes stung.
I couldn't help it. I pulled him into my arms.
"Okay, Olei. You know what? Every child has a mother." My voice cracked. "Your mother loves you very much. She just... she might have reasons she can't be with you right now."
The small body in my arms went rigid for a second. Then he suddenly threw his arms around my neck, his shoulders shaking violently.
"I know," he sobbed, his voice muffled against my neck. "Mama will come to me someday. I've been waiting."
Where he couldn't see, my own tears started to fall.
I don't know how I made it through that day's classes. Standing at the front of the room, when the slideshow flipped to the class roster, I saw Olei's full name. Olei Thorne. Thorne. That man's last name. Just seeing it made it hard to breathe.
"Everyone," I cleared my throat. "I'm your art teacher. You can call me Anthea. In my classroom, there's one rule—I will not tolerate anyone bullying their classmates. If someone's being bullied, you need to tell me right away. Understood?"
The children answered in unison. "Understood!"
My gaze swept over the boys who'd been tormenting Olei that morning. They all looked down.
When the bell rang, I called Olei over.
"Olei, come to my office for a minute."
A few students shot curious looks our way, but Olei just quietly followed me out. The office was warm, the air thick with the smell of coffee and printer ink. I had Olei sit in my desk chair. His little feet didn't reach the floor. God, it was unbearably cute.
"Drink this." I handed him a cup of warm milk with a smile, having stirred in a spoonful of honey.
"Thank you." He held the cup with both hands, taking a careful sip.
"Hungry?" I pulled a chocolate bar from my drawer. "Do you like chocolate? Any allergies?"
Olei's eyes lit up. That tense, well-behaved little face finally showed a hint of childlike innocence.
"I like it." He nodded and reached out, but then suddenly pulled his hand back. With the caution of a miniature adult, he asked, "Does it have peanuts? Dad says I'm allergic to peanuts."
A bittersweet ache bloomed in my chest. Even his allergies matched mine.
I smiled and shook my head. "It's safe. No peanuts. Because I'm allergic to peanuts too."
Only then did he accept the chocolate, nibbling it in small bites. Watching him eat, my heart turned to mush.
"Is it usually just you and your dad at home?" I asked, trying to sound casual, though I was hanging on every word.
Olei stopped chewing. His eyes dimmed. "Just Dad. And lots of bodyguards."
What about Vanessa? Didn't she live with them? But I didn't push. None of this was my business. As long as Olei wasn't being mistreated by Vanessa, that was enough.
"Is your dad good to you?" I finally asked the question that worried me most.
"Dad..." Olei frowned, as if searching for the right words. "Dad's really scary. He doesn't smile. Everyone's afraid of him. I'm a little afraid, too."
My nails dug into my palms. That bastard. Was he abusing my child?
"But Dad only looks scary. When I'm sick, he takes care of me. He's gentle then." Olei's voice softened.
Seeing how understanding he was, my heart broke all over again.
"Olei." I reached out and gently stroked his soft, dark brown hair. "Remember what I'm telling you. No matter how scary your dad seems, you're a child who deserves to be loved. If... if you're ever unhappy at home, or scared, you can always come to me. Okay?"
Olei nodded, looking up at me. While he finished his chocolate, I saved my contact information in his phone watch.
"Alright, head back to class now. Don't be late for your next lesson." Even though I wanted to keep him with me longer, I made myself say it.
I watched his small figure disappear through the office door, my heart swelling with gratitude—my child was within reach, and I could see him almost every day. The thought made me feel lighter than I had in years.
My phone buzzed on the desk. I glanced at the screen. Julian.
"Hey, Julian." I sat back in my chair and answered, unable to hide the brightness in my voice.
"Hey, Anthea." His voice carried just the right note of warmth. "How was your first day? The little monsters didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"
"Not bad." I laughed softly, relaxing into the chair. "Most of the kids are sweet. Though at this age, their world can be pretty cruel sometimes. There was a situation today—one kid was getting bullied by some classmates."
"You helped him, didn't you?" Julian said with certainty, as if he could see right through me over the phone. "So the lucky little guy's okay now?"
"Of course." Even though I would have stepped in for any child, being praised just for helping my own son felt strangely embarrassing. My cheeks warmed.
My eyes drifted to the empty cup Olei had used. "But some of these kids are so premature. It breaks your heart. Like the bullied one—he was clearly hurt, but he just stayed quiet and wouldn't cry. You know? A child's silence is worse than tears."
Silence on the other end. Julian seemed to sense my shift in mood.
"Anthea, you're a good teacher," he said gently. "That kid's lucky to have you. But don't carry all the weight yourself, okay? It's just a job. You just got back to the States. Give yourself time to adjust."
"I know. Thank you, Julian." I meant it, then deliberately changed the subject. "So, how are things in London? Going smoothly? I heard it was a tough case."
"Better than expected. The client's ex-husband was a piece of work. But we caught him in a critical mistake. An hour ago, we won."
"Congratulations, Julian, Esquire." I smiled. "I knew you'd pull it off."
"We won, but I've been miserable." His tone carried an appealing hint of complaint.
"London's weather is a disaster. It's been raining for days—damp and cold, gets into your bones.
So all I've been thinking about is getting back to New York.
And..." He paused, his voice dropping slightly. "And seeing you again."
My heartbeat skipped. I gripped the phone tighter. This polite flirtation, completely non-aggressive, still sent a long-forgotten flutter through me.
"The weather was nice today. Sunny," I said stiffly.
Julian must have heard my retreat. He didn't push, smoothly steering away. "All the more reason not to stay. I moved up my flight to the earliest one. Should be back in New York by early morning."
His easy tone loosened the tension in my shoulders. Even when turned down, he showed the kind of composure and grace you'd expect from someone in his position.
"By the way, Anthea. Tomorrow's Valentine's Day. I know this is a bit sudden, but I'd like to take you to dinner. I know a great restaurant. I think you'd really like it."
Valentine's Day. The words made my stomach clench.
Six years ago, on Valentine's Day, I'd been pregnant with Olei, wearing that gemstone ring threaded on a chain, thinking I had the whole world.
But that man had only given me the illusion of tenderness that night, before throwing me straight into hell.
"Anthea? Are you there?"
"I'm here." I snapped back.
I needed a normal life. I needed to prove to myself that I'd moved past Silas's shadow. I couldn't let the ghosts of my past trap me anymore. Julian was a good person to go out with.
"Dinner sounds great," I said with a smile. "I'd love to."
"Wonderful!" Julian's delight was obvious. "I'll see you tomorrow night then."
After hanging up, I set the phone down and leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes. But in the darkness, a pair of deep gray eyes surfaced, unbidden. I snapped my eyes open, heart racing.
Damn it. Six years, and that bastard's face still haunted me?