Elise stood frozen in the doorway.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

The sight before her was utterly surreal.

Samuel Mitchell was in her apartment.

He was cooking in her kitchen.

The domestic scene felt violently out of place.

He turned, a casual smile on his face.

"Hungry?" he asked, as if this were normal.

As if he hadn't shattered her carefully constructed peace.

Her voice was a cold shard of glass.

"What are you doing here, Samuel?"

She didn't move from the doorway.

Her sanctuary had been invaded.

"I brought Dicky back," he stated simply.

"He mentioned you hadn't eaten properly."

His tone was infuriatingly reasonable.

It made her anger feel irrational.

She finally stepped inside, closing the door.

The aroma of food was disorienting.

It smelled like a home.

Something she hadn't had in years.

"Where is James?" she demanded.

Her eyes scanned the living room.

It was empty except for them.

"Asleep," Samuel replied, stirring a pot.

"He was exhausted. Crashed almost immediately."

He glanced at her. "Long day for him."

Elise walked further into the room.

She felt off-balance, her composure cracking.

This wasn't how her evening was supposed to go.

Alone. Quiet. Safe.

"You can't just show up here," she said.

Her voice was tighter than she intended.

"This is my home."

He turned to face her fully.

His gaze was unsettlingly direct.

"I brought your son home," he reminded her.

"And I made sure he was fed and settled."

He paused. "Is that a crime?"

She hated how he twisted things.

How he made her seem ungrateful.

She was grateful James was safe.

But she wasn't grateful for his presence.

She walked to the kitchen island.

She needed to put something solid between them.

The marble counter was cool under her palms.

"You should go," she told him.

Her eyes were fixed on the simmering pot.

She wouldn't look at him.

"After you eat," he said, turning back to the stove.

His refusal was calm, absolute.

It ignited a fresh spark of fury.

"I'm not hungry."

It was a lie.

Her stomach felt hollow.

The smell of food was a cruel temptation.

Samuel ladled soup into a bowl.

He placed it on the island before her.

Steam rose, carrying the scent of herbs and chicken.

"Sit," he instructed softly.

It wasn't a request.

Her pride warred with her hunger.

And her bone-deep weariness.

She was so tired of fighting.

Of being constantly on guard.

Slowly, she pulled out a stool and sat.

She picked up the spoon.

The first taste was a betrayal.

It was delicious. Comforting.

He leaned against the opposite counter.

Watching her.

She kept her eyes on the bowl.

"Thank you," she muttered.

The words tasted foreign.

Gratitude towards him felt like a defeat.

"He's a good kid," Samuel said after a moment.

His voice was quieter now.

"James. He's smart. Funny."

He paused. "He worries about you."

Elise's spoon stilled.

A sharp pain lanced through her chest.

She didn't want James to worry.

She wanted him to feel secure. Carefree.

"He shouldn't," she said tightly.

"He's a child."

"He's your son," Samuel countered.

"He sees things."

She finally looked up at him.

The overhead light carved shadows on his face.

He looked different here.

Softer. Less like the corporate titan.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

The question was raw, stripped of pretense.

"Why the sudden interest in my son? In me?"

He held her gaze.

His expression was unreadable.

"Maybe it's not sudden."

The air between them thickened.

His words hung there, heavy with unspoken history.

Six years of silence. Of bitterness.

She looked away, breaking the connection.

"It was sudden enough six years ago."

The old wound, never fully healed, throbbed.

He didn't respond immediately.

The only sound was the hum of the refrigerator.

"I made a mistake," he said finally.

His voice was low.

The admission shocked her.

Samuel Mitchell never admitted fault.

She gave a bitter laugh.

"A mistake? You threw me out, Samuel.

You chose my sister. On our wedding day."

The memory was a fresh brand.

The humiliation. The shattering of her world.

"I didn't choose her," he said, his voice hardening slightly.

"The situation was... complicated."

"Complicated?" Elise pushed the bowl away.

The comfort was gone, replaced by acid resentment.

"You destroyed my life because it was complicated?"

"I was trying to protect the company," he shot back.

A flash of his old impatience.

"Your father was on the verge of bankrupting Sachs Enterprise.

The merger with Mitchell Corp was the only thing holding it together.

And you... you were a liability."

The word hit her like a physical blow.

A liability.

That's all she had been to him.

"And Sophia wasn't?" Elise stood up, her chair scraping.

"Your relationship with my sister wasn't a liability?"

"It was a miscalculation," he said, his jaw tight.

"One I've regretted."

"A miscalculation," she repeated, her voice dripping with scorn.

"You have a gift for understatement."

She walked to the window, looking out at the city lights.

Crestwood glittered below, indifferent.

She wrapped her arms around herself.

"Just go, Samuel.

Thank you for the soup.

And for bringing James home.

But you need to leave."

She heard him move behind her.

He didn't come closer.

"Elise," he said.

Just her name.

It sounded different on his lips now.

Not an accusation. Almost an apology.

She didn't turn around.

She couldn't.

She listened as his footsteps retreated.

The soft click of the door closing.

Silence descended, heavier than before.

She was alone again.

But the apartment no longer felt like a sanctuary.

It felt haunted.

By his presence.

By his words.

By the ghost of a mistake he claimed to regret.

She looked towards James's room.

Her son, who worried about her.

Her son, who had spent the day with the man who broke her.

A cold dread settled in her stomach.

This wasn't over.

She knew, with a chilling certainty, that Samuel Mitchell was back in her life.

And this time, he wasn't leaving.

After James made the gesture, he noticed Elise blushing. He looked at her with adorable confusion.

"Mommy? Why is your face red?"

Elise only blushed harder under his innocent stare. She finally understood that children spoke without filters.

She quickly said, "Wait right here. I'll get you something to wear for now."

"Okay," James nodded obediently.

Elise found a large T-shirt that reached his knees, making pants unnecessary.

She carried him to her soft bed and began blow-drying his hair. He grew sleepier with each passing moment.

His eyes started closing as she worked.

By the time Elise finished, James was already sprawled across her bed, fast asleep.

Her heart swelled with warmth at the sight of his peaceful face.

She gently straightened his small body and pulled a blanket over him. Leaning down, she kissed his forehead softly.

After dimming the lights, she picked up her phone and texted William. "James fell asleep. Maybe you could pick him up tomorrow morning?"

No immediate reply came this time. After waiting a moment, she didn't think much of it.

She gathered her bathrobe and headed for a shower. Just as she finished, the doorbell rang unexpectedly.

Elise hurried to the front door and checked the monitor. William stood outside.

Had he missed her text?

She opened the door and said directly, "James is sleeping."

But William's eyes immediately went to her attire.

Elise looked down and flushed crimson. She still wore only her bathrobe, which hung loosely from her body.

And she wasn't wearing anything underneath...

Bang!

William pursed his lips as the door slammed shut in his face. Elise raced to her room and changed into conservative casual wear.

She quickly towel-dried her hair and tied it up hastily before rushing back to the door. "Sorry. Please come in."

She offered him a pair of male loafers. William glanced at them and asked, "Do you have shoe covers?"

"I think so," Elise looked around and found a pair.

William put them on before entering.

"James is sleeping. Should I wake him, or will you just carry him-"

"I'm hungry," William interrupted her abruptly.

Elise stared at him, then at the large clock on the wall.

It was already ten o'clock.

They stood very close in the quiet room. Suddenly, the only sounds were the hairdryer and her pounding heartbeat.

Elise thought William must be quite experienced with relationships. So why couldn't he keep James's mother?!

Silence hung between them until William turned off the hairdryer. "Done."

"Thank you."

"I'll come by at eight tomorrow to pick up James."

"Okay."

Elise walked William to the door. He reached down and picked up the pair of male loafers. "I'll help you throw these away."

Elise pursed her lips. She had bought those for Samuel, but he rarely visited her here. The loafers had only been used once or twice.

It was her money anyway, and she wasn't wasteful.

"Mr. Levine," she said suddenly, stopping him.

"Yes?"

"Are you part of the Levines, that very famous family in this city?" she asked, staring directly at him.