The child did not look up.
Thaddeus stepped into the room. “Oliver, I am speaking to you.”
Finally, slowly, the boy raised his head. His eyes were red-rimmed and empty. Not angry. Not defiant. Just... vacant. As though some essential part of him had shut down entirely.
“She’s gone,” Oliver said. His voice was flat. “You made her leave.”
“She chose to leave,” Thaddeus corrected, his tone measured. “And tomorrow, you will be leaving as well. For school. Where you will learn proper discipline and?—”
“I don’t want to go away to school.”
“What you want is immaterial. You are going.”
Oliver’s grip tightened on the handkerchief. “She said she loves me. She said that doesn’t change.”
“Yes. Well.” Thaddeus folded his arms. “People say many things. What matters is what they do. And what we will do is ensure you receive the education you require.”
“I don’t care about education.”
“You will care when you are older and understand that structure?—”
“I just want her back!” The words burst from Oliver with sudden violence. “I want Mama! I want Papa! I want Maribel! I don’t want you, I don’t want school, I don’t want any of this!”
The boy was on his feet now, his small frame shaking, tears streaming down his face. “I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate?—”
“That is enough.”
Thaddeus’s voice cut through the tirade like a blade. Oliver stopped mid-breath, his mouth open, his eyes filled with angry tears and red blotches on his face.
Silence crashed down between them.
Thaddeus stared at the boy—this small, broken creature who had lost everything and was now losing what little remained. Thaddeus swallowed as he became aware of a vast and terrible feeling trying to claw its way up from beneath the walls he had built, but he forced it back down with the discipline of long practice.
“You will pack your belongings,” he said quietly. “You will eat your meals. And tomorrow morning, you will board the carriage to Ashford Academy without complaint. Is that understood?”
Oliver’s chin trembled. “I want Maribel.”
“Lady Maribel is gone. She is not coming back. And we will respect her choice.”
“She loved me!” Oliver’s voice cracked. “She loved me, she loved me like mama and papa, and you don’t!”
Thaddeus could only stare at the boy. Of course he loved him, he wanted to say. But did he?
Of course he… cared for the boy. But love?
He could hardly remember what that was.
He swallowed dryly on a lump forming in his throat.
Tomorrow Oliver would be gone. The house would be empty. And Thaddeus would be exactly what he had always been—alone. Safe. Untouched by the chaos of feeling.
It was what he had wanted.
Wasn’t it?
He turned and walked to the door.
“Mrs. Allen will pack your things,” he said without looking back. “The carriage arrives at nine.”
