Ethan rubbed his stomach with a faint smile. “I guess I am.”

Liam’s face brightened instantly. “Does that mean… you can cook?”

Ethan froze.

The eager spark in Liam’s eyes was impossible to ignore. “Mr. Blackwood, you really know how to cook, don’t you? I’d love to try something you make.”

Ethan released a slow breath. He was no professional chef, but under that hopeful stare, saying no wasn’t an option.

He took a deep breath and rolled up his sleeves. “Alright. I’ll try.” With that, he walked into the kitchen, fully aware he was stepping into uncertain territory.

Not long after, he returned—carrying a bowl of creamy mashed potatoes.

The potatoes were smooth and rich, swirled with butter and cream. Their golden surface was dotted with fresh green scallions. A warm, comforting aroma filled the room, wrapping everything in a soft, savory embrace.

“Come try this, Liam,” Ethan said, placing the bowl on the dining table.

Liam cheered and rushed over, his eyes wide as if he’d found something magical.

Ethan scooped up a spoonful, blew on it gently, and held it to Liam’s lips. “Careful—it’s still hot. Blow first.”

Liam puffed obediently before taking a bite. The moment the creamy potatoes touched his tongue, his face lit up with pure joy. “Wow! This is amazing!”

Ethan found himself smiling—a real, easy smile he rarely showed.

But before he could speak, the sharp sound of a key turning in the lock cut through the moment. The door swung open.

Both Ethan and Liam turned toward the entrance. Standing quietly in the doorway was Lucas.

Ethan’s smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of irritation. He hadn’t expected Lucas to show up—let alone use a key to enter.

Lucas was equally stunned to find Ethan in Isabella’s apartment. He paused briefly, his expression settling into an uncomfortable calm. He had rushed over after Emily’s call, worried about Isabella and Liam.

“Lucas!” Liam beamed, his excitement clear as he greeted him.

Ethan’s brow furrowed. It puzzled him how easily Liam addressed Lucas, his biological father. Yet he could feel the bond between them—a connection that sparked something sharp and uninvited within him.

He set the bowl down, his voice cold as he addressed Lucas. “Mr. Grant, don’t you think it’s inappropriate to show up unannounced at this hour?”

Lucas’s hands tightened at his sides. The warning in Ethan’s tone was unmistakable.

Taking a controlled breath, Lucas held back his anger. “Mr. Blackwood, I was concerned about Isabella and Liam.”

“Concerned?” Ethan’s scoff was sharp. “Mr. Grant, your concern seems excessive. Isabella and Liam are under my care.”

“Your care?” Doubt shadowed Lucas’s eyes.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Grant,” Ethan continued, his tone edged with challenge. “You always find reasons to come around. Could it be you have… ulterior motives?”

Lucas looked visibly annoyed. He struggled to keep his composure. “Watch your tone, Ethan.”

“My tone?” Ethan mocked. “Mr. Grant, this is Isabella’s home, not yours. What gives you the right to tell me what to say?”