Kaelen walked into the penthouse that evening, her composure strained to the breaking point. The twins were happily chattering about the Comet-Cruiser and Mr. Thorne's "secret knowledge."
Rhys was waiting. He didn't ask how the meeting went; his eyes, cool and analytical, demanded the assessment.
"He targeted Silas's obsession. He knew about Astro-Pups," Kaelen stated, dumping the snack bag onto the kitchen island. "He spent twenty-four hours studying them. He didn't make a single mistake. He was perfect."
"Perfectly manipulative," Rhys countered, his voice sharp. "He's doing exactly what I predicted: undermining my position. The toys were a distraction. The silence from you for fifty minutes was the real victory."
"He backed off the minute I told him he was crossing a line," Kaelen snapped, exhaustion making her defensive. "He wants access, Rhys. He's not trying to steal them yet. We have the upper hand."
Rhys stepped closer, his jaw tight. "No, he has the upper hand, Kaelen, because he knows he only has to be patient. He's the biological father with endless resources, and you are the mother who lied about his existence. Every time you leave them alone with him, I lose ground."
"I am with them," Kaelen insisted.
"But you're not their father!" Rhys's control finally snapped. "He makes them laugh, and then you step in as the barrier! Every successful visit drives a wedge into the reality we built! Do you even want this fiction anymore, Kaelen, or are you secretly hoping he remembers what he lost?"
The accusation hung heavy in the air. Kaelen realized that Rhys wasn't just afraid of losing the boys; he was afraid of losing her to the powerful pull of the past.
"Don't do this, Rhys," she pleaded, running her hands over her face. "You're their father. That is our truth."
Just as the tension reached its breaking point, Seth's crying exploded from the boys' room. It was sharp, pained, and unlike his usual dramatic protests.
Kaelen and Rhys rushed down the hall together. Seth was sitting up in bed, clutching his stomach, his face flushed and glistening with sweat.
"Mommy, my tummy hurts! It really hurts!"
Kaelen instantly went into crisis mode, feeling his forehead. He was burning up. "He has a fever. Rhys, call Dr. Henderson. Now."
Rhys was already pulling out his phone, his protective instincts overriding his jealousy. "I'm calling the doctor."
Kaelen held Seth close, trying to soothe him, but the fever spiked quickly. She had to move fast. She rushed to the medicine cabinet, grabbing the fever reducer.
"He needs the medicine now, but I need to get his temperature," Kaelen muttered, scrambling for the thermometer. Her hands were shaking too badly to work the small digital device.
Suddenly, a calm, steady voice cut through the panic.
"Kaelen. Give me the thermometer. Hold him still."
Elias. He had arrived unannounced, knowing Kaelen was likely overwhelmed, having used his surveillance to track her car back to the penthouse. He stood in the doorway, stripped of his Armani jacket, his expression completely focused on the emergency. He wasn't a rival or a CEO; he was just an additional, capable pair of hands.
Before Kaelen could protest, Elias moved past Rhys (who was still on the phone with the doctor), took the device from her trembling hand, and gently slipped it under Seth's armpit. He positioned himself calmly on the edge of the bed, his presence instantly radiating reassurance to the distressed boy.
"It's going to feel cold, buddy," Elias murmured to Seth, holding the boy's small body steady against the tremors of the fever. "Just hold still for the count of five."
Kaelen watched him. His touch was firm yet gentle, instantly effective. In this moment of shared crisis, the hostility vanished, leaving only two people focused on protecting one fragile life. She saw the familiar competence that had always calmed her during their college days, magnified now by a desperate paternal instinct. She was relying on him, and he had shown up without conditions.
The thermometer beeped. Elias read the high number, relayed it to Kaelen, and then smoothly handed Seth to her.
"Give him the full dose now," Elias instructed, his voice authoritative. "Rhys, call the hospital's pediatric urgent care. I'll get the cool rags."
In the space of three minutes, Kaelen and Elias were working as a seamless, silent team: Kaelen administering the medicine, Elias preparing the cooling measures, and Rhys coordinating external help. The years of betrayal and the hostility of the airport were momentarily erased by the overwhelming, immediate need to save their son.
As Seth finally drifted into a fitful sleep, his fever starting to break, Kaelen looked across the bed at Elias. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, his head bowed, the tension slowly draining from his rigid frame.
She didn't thank him. She just said, "He gets those fevers easily. They spike fast."
Elias looked up, his eyes tired but filled with a new, profound understanding. "I'll make sure my staff sends his medical history files over tonight. Every Thorne child has a detailed file. I should have done that the minute I saw them."
The small, tired confession was a bridge between them. He hadn't just inserted himself into their lives; he had recognized his own parental responsibility. He was finally acting like a father, not a rival.