Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Anthea
Valentine's Day. Pink balloons, sweet chocolate, promises whispered over candlelight. For six years, this holiday had been nothing but pain—a reminder that I'd been betrayed, that my child had been ripped from my arms. But this year was different. This year, I could see Olei.
The thought made me breathe easier.
I threw my beige coat over my uniform, grabbed my commuter bag, and ran through today's lessons and dinner with Julian in my head. Then I opened the door and nearly choked. A white dahlia, still wet with dew, slipped from the doorknob and fell to the hallway floor.
No one knew I loved dahlias. No one except him. Silas. He knew I was back. He'd been here.
Cold shot up my spine, starting at my tailbone and racing to my scalp. Of course he knew. He was Olei's father. I was Olei's new teacher. He'd run a background check. But the flower... What was this? A warning to stay away from his son? Or was he planning to have me deported again?
I wanted to call it a prank. A coincidence. But I couldn't lie to myself. I scanned the hallway. Empty. But I felt eyes on me anyway. My skin prickled.
Shit. I slammed the door and bolted down the stairs. I didn't breathe again until I hit the street, swallowed by traffic noise.
Calm down, Anthea. Whatever Silas wanted, I wouldn't let him wreck my new life. Not again.
At school, surrounded by bright young faces, I steadied. Near the entrance, a little girl was saying goodbye to her mother.
"Good morning, Anthea!" She waved, grinning like a sunflower.
"Good morning, Emily." I crouched and fixed the crooked bow in her hair.
Emily's mother smiled. "She talked about you all night. Said you're so gentle, and your class is really fun."
"Thank you. Emily's a bright kid." I stood, returning the smile.
In that simple exchange, I almost forgot the dahlia on my doorknob. Maybe I was just paranoid. Maybe some stranger left it at the wrong door.
I waved Emily and her mother off, then turned toward the building. That's when heat slammed into my back. I felt danger before I saw it. I spun around—and crashed into arms I couldn't escape.
Cedar. That scent made me shake. Even through my coat, I felt the coiled power in his body.
I knew this hold. My body recognized it before my brain did. My heart kicked into overdrive. It was him. I didn't need to look up or hear his voice. The man holding me was Silas.
His arms locked around my waist like iron. My face pressed into his broad chest. I couldn't breathe.
"Let go! Help!" I choked out, thrashing.
I drove my elbow into his ribs and stomped on his shoe with my heel. He didn't budge. My resistance meant nothing. His arms only tightened.
"Don't move," Silas said, voice low and rough. "Just let me hold you."
"Are you insane? This is a school!" I hissed. I could feel eyes turning toward us.
It was peak drop-off. Parents everywhere. Teachers on duty. If I got caught grappling with a student's father at the gate, I'd be fired by tomorrow.
"Let them watch," he said, chin resting on top of my head.
"You want to destroy my job?" I stopped fighting. My voice shook with rage. "You want to get me thrown out of the country again?"
His body went rigid. Then, slowly, he let go.
I stumbled back, putting distance between us. This was the first time I'd seen him in six years. Silas still looked like something carved from stone—sharp features, storm-gray eyes, dangerous. But silver threaded his temples now. It made him look older. More of a stranger.
"Anthea," he said, voice cracked in a way I'd never heard before. "You're alive."
Something twisted in my chest. A complicated ache surged up, but I bit down hard and crushed it. Don't be stupid, Anthea. This is just another way for him to break you.
"Yeah. I'm alive. Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Thorne."
He swayed like I'd hit him.
I turned to leave—then noticed Olei standing beside Silas. He'd been so quiet, so well-behaved. When I looked at him, his eyes lit up.
"Good morning, Olei." I kept my voice steady. "Come on. I'll walk you to class."
Olei glanced up at his father.
"Go ahead," Silas said, then locked his gaze on me. "We'll see each other again soon."
His eyes promised it. I grabbed Olei's hand and bolted through the gate. Olei jogged to keep up. He didn't ask questions.
The second I stepped inside the building, I exhaled.
All day, I was off. In class, I held it together—didn't let my state mess with the kids. But in the office, grading papers, I couldn't focus. Even chatting with coworkers during breaks, I zoned out.
The dahlia. The hug. His words. Silas was a shadow I couldn't shake.
The way he'd looked at me when he said "you're alive"—I'd never seen that expression before. He didn't look like he'd found an annoying problem. He looked like... No. Stop. I shook my head hard, scattering the thought.
Whatever his expression meant, it didn't change what happened six years ago. He had Olei taken from me right after I gave birth. Had me deported. Got engaged to Vanessa. Those were facts. One look didn't erase them.
The bell rang. No matter how much I wanted to avoid Silas, I wouldn't give up time alone with Olei. I left the office. Olei was already waiting outside the classroom, backpack slung over his shoulders.
"Let's go. Your dad's probably waiting at the gate." I took his hand.
"Anthea, are you upset today?" Olei looked up, eyes full of worry.
"No. Why do you ask?"
"Your eyebrows are all scrunched." He pointed at his own forehead. "My dad does that when he's upset, too."
My heart squeezed. This kid was too perceptive. Too sensitive.
"I'm just tired." I crouched to his level. "But seeing you makes me feel better."
Olei's face flushed, but his mouth curved into a smile. "Really?"
"Really."
"Then, whenever you're upset, you can come find me." He looked down, voice barely audible.
My eyes stung. This was my child. In my dreams, I'd imagined him countless times—what he liked, what scared him. And now he stood in front of me, promising to make me happy with eyes that looked just like mine.
"Okay. Thank you, sweetheart." I hugged him gently. "It's a deal."
I walked Olei to the gate and watched from a distance as he got in the car. No sign of Silas. I breathed out in relief.
After that, I caught a cab home, changed into something nicer, and then headed to the restaurant Julian had picked.
It was a nice place. Warm lighting, guests relaxing to soft jazz. For Valentine's Day, they'd decorated with red roses everywhere.
Julian was already waiting by the window. When I approached, he stood and pulled out my chair.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
"You didn't. I just got here. You look beautiful tonight." He adjusted his wire-rim glasses, eyes warm. "Long day? You seem tired."
"Just some minor stuff." I kept it vague. I didn't want to talk about what happened.
Julian didn't press. He shifted to lighter topics. His voice was pleasant, his manner easy. I tried to relax, to enjoy the meal. Ten minutes in, my plan shattered.
A commotion at the entrance. A man in a suit was bowing and scraping to a powerful-looking guest in a charcoal suit, tie loose, exposing a strong chest—Silas.
He held Olei's hand. His gaze swept past the other diners turning to stare and locked onto me. He waved the suit away and walked toward us. Damn it. Did he follow me?
Silas stopped at our table while Julian and I stared in shock.
"What a coincidence, Ms. Carter." He smiled—polite, gentlemanly. "Since we ran into each other, you don't mind if Olei and I join you?"
Olei looked at me with those bright eyes. "Anthea, can we have dinner with you?"
I hesitated. I didn't want to see Silas. But God, I really wanted to share a meal with Olei.
"I... I should ask Julian first, Olei." I turned to him.
Julian paused, glanced between Silas and Olei, then smiled graciously. "I don't mind at all."
I relaxed and introduced them. "This is my student, Olei. And his father, Silas."
"Hello. I'm Julian Voss." Julian stood and extended his hand.
Silas shook it briefly, then let go. His gaze lingered on Julian. "What do you do, Mr. Voss?"
"I'm a lawyer."
"A lawyer?" Silas raised an eyebrow, mouth quirking. "I hear that's tough. When cases dry up, income gets shaky. Hard to support a family."
Julian's expression flickered, but he recovered quickly. "I manage. I can afford dinner. What line of work are you in, Mr. Thorne?"
"Import-export. Some real estate projects." Silas answered casually.
I bit back frustration, swallowing the urge to leave, and gestured for Olei to sit beside me. Silas slid in next to Olei like he'd planned it all along.
Silas glanced at me, then picked up the menu. "Let's order."
Julian opened his menu, trying to ease the tension. "Anthea, what would you like? The roasted lamb here is excellent. Should I order you some?"
"Sure, than—"
"No." Silas cut in, tone certain. "The lamb here has parsley. It'll make her sick."
My fingers froze. Six years ago, when I was pregnant, I couldn't stand parsley. The smell made me nauseous. Even after having Olei, I still hated it. I didn't think Silas would remember a detail like that.
"Really?" Julian looked at me, surprised. "Sorry, I didn't know."
"It's fine. People change." I forced my voice to stay level. "I can handle parsley now."
I lied on purpose—just to contradict Silas. It made me feel like I'd escaped his control. I turned to the waiter and told him to add the lamb.
Silas's gaze darkened. Then he looked at me, voice low. "Noted."
He didn't push. He just ordered several dishes that clearly matched my old preferences—and kid-friendly options for Olei. I stared at those familiar dishes, emotions tangled. Then irritation flared. This was Julian's dinner. But Silas acted like he was hosting.
"How thoughtful of you, Mr. Thorne." My voice had an edge. "Why not order something for yourself?"
"Don't need to." He closed the menu and met my eyes. "I like whatever you like."
His gaze was invasive. I looked away—and saw Julian's strained expression.
"Sorry," I whispered to Julian.
This was supposed to be just the two of us.
"It's okay." Julian smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it."
He paused, glancing at Olei sitting quietly, and tried to engage. "Olei, what would you like to drink? How about a strawberry milkshake? Kids usually like sweet stuff, right?"
Olei nodded. Julian told the waiter to add the milkshake. I ordered Olei a chocolate mousse. He liked that.
The whole meal was torture. Silas kept steering every topic Julian raised back to Olei. At first, I was happy—learning about my son's life. But gradually, I realized Silas was doing it on purpose. Every time Julian tried to talk to me, Silas cut in.
"This chocolate mousse looks great." Julian watched Olei finish his entrée and dig into dessert, face blissful. "Anthea, I remember you like chocolate cake too. There's a dessert café nearby—we should go sometime. They make really good pastries."
I was about to say yes—Julian deserved that after this mess.
But Silas hijacked the conversation again. "Too much sugar's bad for teeth. I monitor Olei's dessert intake. Last month, he lost a tooth—"
Julian went quiet. His smile grew more and more strained.
"Enough!" I finally snapped, dropping my utensils and standing. "Mr. Thorne, can we talk? Outside?"
Silas raised an eyebrow but followed me out. We stopped at a quiet corner down the block.
"What the hell do you want?" I kept my voice low, but fury leaked through. "You investigate me? Follow me? Wasn't that enough? Now you have to ruin my social life too?"
"That man looks at you wrong," Silas said calmly. "You're not even a couple, and he brings you to a romantic restaurant on Valentine's Day."
"So what? That's my business. You don't get to control it!" His presumption made me shake with anger. My voice rose. "You think this is fun? Wrecking my dinner? Humiliating my friend?"
Silas didn't answer right away. He stepped closer. Familiar pressure closed around me.
"I don't want to see you with another man!" His answer was blunt. Brutal.
Something inside me broke. Six years of hurt, pain, and rage erupted all at once.
"What gives you the right?" I shouted at him.
"Did you forget what you did? Six years ago, you let your father and Vanessa take Olei from me the second he was born.
I didn't even get to see him before I was deported.
And you—you lied to me the whole time for your damn gangster alliance. You're nothing but a bastard!"
Silas shook his head. He reached for me, but I jerked away. So he stood there, expression twisted in pain.
"I didn't," he said, throat tight. "Anthea, I didn't do those things. The day you gave birth, I wasn't at the manor. I was dealing with Tomaso's mess. By the time I got back, everyone told me you died in childbirth. For six years, I've thought about you every single day."
I froze. What was he saying?
Believing him would be like sticking my hand back into the same trap that broke my fingers. I wasn't that stupid. Not twice.
"You told me when I was pregnant that I'd always be the mother, that I'd have the right to see him. And then what?" I stepped back, voice sharp. "You always lie. Nothing you say is true."
"I meant those words." His voice grew desperate. "Anthea, I'm a bastard—I know that. I failed you. But I never lied about this. I love you. I've always loved you. Every second of six years, I thought about you. Why the hell would I want you gone?"
"Is this your new game, Silas?" I looked at him coldly, voice dripping with mockery. "No matter what you say or do, I won't fall for it again."
I turned and walked away without looking back.