I must admit, it was satisfying to see those few seconds of raw anger on Asher's face at dinner before he masked it with his usual coldness.
The drive back was slow and steady. Leo had fallen asleep halfway home, exhausted after asking a thousand questions about the "stranger." Once we were inside the penthouse, I undressed him and tucked him into his Mickey Mouse pajamas. He didn't even stir.
I stripped off my own clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the scent of the restaurant and the lingering tension of Asher's presence. But as I stepped out, the silence of the penthouse began to grate on my nerves. It was the kind of quiet that makes your ears ring. I'd spent millions on this place—the reinforced glass, the soundproofing, the biometric locks—but tonight, it didn't feel like a fortress. It felt like a very expensive cage.
I stood in the kitchen, staring at the coffee maker. I'd already had three cups, and my hands were betraying me with an annoying little tremor. It wasn't because I was a world-class surgeon who lived for precision; it was because I was a mother who had just watched her past walk back into her present.
I still couldn't get over the sheer, terrifying coincidence of it all. If Asher's brother hadn't been shot, if he hadn't been rushed to my surgical wing, I would still be a ghost. Asher hadn't "hunted" me down; he had stumbled over me while he was at his most vulnerable. I never thought our paths would cross again. I had been so careful, yet a stray bullet and a hospital emergency had undone five years of secrecy in five minutes.
"Is the stranger mad at us?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out Leo's voice. I had lied to him. I had built this quiet world where he was safe and his father was just a blank space in a story. And now, Asher was back. He was bitter that I'd faked my death, bitter that I'd kept his "flesh and blood" a secret, and he was already trying to dictate the terms of my life again.
I walked over to my desk and flipped the laptop open. I didn't care about the city views; I just wanted to know if my perimeter was truly secure. Asher was a powerhouse, and the fact that he'd bought off the "Ghost" security in less than an hour told me everything I needed to know. He wasn't a man who accepted a truce—especially not from a woman. Especially not from a woman he once owned.
I spent the next hour digging through my security logs, my heart thudding a weird, uneven rhythm. Then, I found it.
A back-door entry in the hospital's pediatric database.
Someone hadn't just looked for Leo; they had been tracking my surgical schedule for weeks. My blood ran cold. This wasn't Asher. Asher had found me by accident only a few days ago. He was too busy being furious to have set up this kind of deep, long-term digital surveillance. This was someone else. Someone who had been watching me long before Asher Reed ever walked into my hospital.
A floorboard creaked behind me.
I almost jumped out of my skin. I reached for a heavy crystal award on my desk, my fingers white-knuckled around the base. I was ready to swing.
"Mommy?"
It was Leo. He was standing there with his stuffed lion, looking pale and small in his Mickey Mouse pajamas. My heart did a painful somersault. I dropped the award and rushed to him, kneeling on the floor.
"Hey, baby. What is it? You okay?"
"I had a bad dream," he whispered, shaking. "The man from dinner... he was in my room, Mommy. He said he was going to take me away from you to see the 'big house' with the dogs. He said you were tired of hiding."
The air left my lungs. Asher has dogs—huge, terrifying Dobermans. But Asher hadn't mentioned them at dinner. He hadn't talked about the Reed Estate. How did Leo know?
A cold, greasy feeling of dread settled in my gut. This wasn't a dream. Someone had been whispering to my son, and they were using Asher's identity as a cover.
"It was just a dream, Leo. I promise." I picked him up, holding him so tight he let out a little grunt. I carried him back to his room, but I didn't let him go. I sat on the edge of his bed, watching the door like a hawk. No one is going to take you away from me. I whispered more to myself than to him
Then, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I picked it up, expecting a text from the hospital. Instead, it was an anonymous message. No number. Just a link to an image.
I clicked it, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.
******