Kennedith sat alone on the couch in his dimly lit living room, the faint hum of the ceiling fan filling the silence. His phone was still in his hands — the call with Alice replaying in his mind. Her voice had been softer than he remembered, gentler even. For the first time in years, there had been no bitterness, no anger, just two people talking like they once did — as if the years of distance hadn't existed at all.
A small smile crept onto his lips, a mixture of nostalgia and quiet relief. He leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts drifted. "Maybe… things are starting to change," he murmured under his breath.
But outside the door, Kate had heard everything.
She stood frozen in the hallway, her knuckles tightening around the edge of the wall. The warmth that had once filled her chest turned to a cold, jealous ache. Her breath came out shaky — it wasn't just a harmless phone call. The way Kennedith's voice softened when he spoke to Alice… it was a tone she had never heard directed at her.
Without thinking, she turned sharply and stormed down the corridor, heels clicking furiously on the marble floor.
Kennedith heard the faint noise and stood up immediately, pocketing his phone. He walked out, only to find the hallway empty. The air felt strangely heavy, as though something had been left unsaid.
On his way downstairs, he caught sight of one of the housekeepers at Hayden's door. The elderly woman was knocking gently, a tray of food trembling slightly in her hands.
"Mr. Hayden, please eat something," she pleaded softly. "You've barely touched your meals for days…"
There was no answer. Only silence.
After a few more knocks, she sighed in defeat and turned around, heading down the hall with the tray still untouched. Kennedith stopped her halfway.
"I'll take it from here," he said, voice calm yet firm. She hesitated, then handed him the tray and walked off quietly.
Kennedith stood at the door for a long moment before speaking. His tone was gentle, but his words carried weight.
"Hayden, I know you can hear me," he began. "You made a mistake. We all have. But starving yourself won't change anything."
There was still silence.
He placed the tray by the door and leaned against the wall. "You're stronger than this, son. We've already started finding a way to fix everything — but I need you to stop hurting yourself. Please… eat something. Rest."
No reply came. Only the faint sound of muffled sobbing from inside. Kennedith closed his eyes for a moment, his chest tightening, before walking away.
As he descended the stairs, the tension in the house hit him like a storm. He saw Kate in the dining area, angrily scolding a young housekeeper. The poor girl was trembling, clutching an empty serving tray.
"I told you not to serve them food!" Kate snapped. "They're not even supposed to eat here!"
Kennedith froze as his gaze followed hers — and there they were, Michael and Michelle, sitting quietly at the edge of the dining table, heads bowed. His children.
He stepped forward, his voice cutting sharply through the chaos. "Enough, Kate."
Everyone turned to him. Kate's expression faltered.
"You don't talk to my children like that," he said firmly. "Do you understand?"
Kate's face twisted in disbelief. "Your children? You mean her children. Alice's children. You've ignored us for weeks and now you defend them?"
"Watch your words," Kennedith warned, his calm voice darkening. "Alice is my ex-wife. She's not a stranger, and those children—Michael and Michelle—are mine. Caring for them doesn't mean I've wronged you."
Kate's lips trembled with rage. "So that's it? You'll always run back to her! What about Hayden? What about me?"
He took a slow step forward, his tone now low and dangerous. "We're not married, Kate. Don't forget that. And if you can't treat my family with respect, there will be consequences."
The room went still. Even the servants held their breath.
Kennedith turned toward the staff. "Everyone here — treat my children with respect. Anyone who doesn't, will be dismissed immediately."
Shock rippled across the room. Kate stood speechless, Michael and Michelle wide-eyed, unsure how to react.
Just then, Dr. Raymond appeared at the doorway. He had been listening quietly, his expression unreadable.
Kennedith nodded respectfully. "Doctor."
Dr. Raymond smiled faintly, breaking the tension. "Michael and Michelle are my grandchildren," he said calmly. "And I expect everyone under this roof to remember that."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then Kate, desperate and shaken, spoke out. "What about Jedidiah?" she blurted. "Isn't he Kennedith and Alice's child too?"
Her words hung in the air like a blade.
Dr. Raymond's eyes narrowed, his calm composure flickering into something sharp and dangerous. He turned his gaze on Kate — a single, fierce glare that silenced her instantly. She took a step back, her face pale with fear.
Without another word, Dr. Raymond turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
Kate swallowed hard, realizing the weight of what she had just said.
Kennedith exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face. "You never know when to stop," he muttered, then walked away, leaving Kate frozen in the dining hall.
That evening, elsewhere in the city, Sophia dressed quietly in her room. Her wounds had healed enough for her to move freely, though the faint scar near her shoulder still stung when she reached for her bag. She adjusted her hat and mask — a simple disguise, but enough to go unnoticed.
She caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled faintly. It felt nostalgic — sneaking out like this, just to meet him.
The thought made her cheeks warm.
When she arrived at the small café, Brian was already waiting, seated by the window with two cups of coffee. His usual calm smile appeared the moment their eyes met.
"Sophia," he greeted softly. "You look… well."
Her heartbeat quickened as she approached. "And you haven't changed," she replied, her tone half playful, half nervous.
They sat across from each other, the faint hum of the café wrapping around them. For a moment, it felt as if time had rewound — two old souls meeting where everything had once begun.
Brian's eyes softened as he leaned slightly forward. "I didn't think you'd come."
Sophia smiled faintly, tracing her finger along the rim of her coffee cup. "Neither did I."
The silence between them wasn't awkward — it was heavy with memory.
And for the first time in a long while, Sophia let herself exhale, her heart both steady and uncertain — as though something long buried had just begun to stir again.