I stared at him.
“You don’t push him so hard that he thinks you’re choosing me over him,” he said. “You don’t make him feel cornered. You don’t become my messenger. I don’t want that. I want my son to be happy. I want my son to be loved. I want my son to keep whatever he’s found in you. That comes first. Above the company. Above the board. Above me.”
Something stung behind my eyes.
He noticed. His expression changed, just a flicker softer. It did something to my chest I wasn’t prepared for.
“I’m selfish,” he said, almost gently. “But not that selfish.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “O-Okay.”
“Good.” His shoulders dropped a fraction, like a weight let go. “Then we understand each other.”
I nodded again. My fingers were twisted in my own sleeves. We just sat there for a second. Just breathing in the same quiet room.
And it hit me, kind of all at once: this house was huge, and there were staff in it, and every surface gleamed, but he was alone.
Actually alone.
No wife. No son. No laughter in the halls.
Just him and a wedding portrait the size of a wall.
“Mr Lockhart?” I asked softly.
He huffed, just barely. “John is fine.”
“John,” I tried, and he nodded as if that mattered.
“I’ll try,” I whispered. “For him. I’ll try. B-But not if it hurts us.”
His mouth curved, finally, into something that almost looked like a real smile. Tired, yes, but real. “Fair,” he said quietly. “More than fair.”
I nodded.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Aurora
After a pause, he tilted his head. “Now,” he said, as if he were changing gears on purpose, “tell me about you, Aurora.”
I blinked. “M-Me?”
“Yes.” There was a new focus in his eyes now, not business, not pleading. Curious. “You’re my son’s girlfriend, you attend Silverwood?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And your parents?”
“My mum lives in New York, New York City," I said softly. “She—um—she’s a receptionist at a hotel there. My dad…” My voice caught on instinct. “He passed.”
His eyes flickered. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and it didn’t sound like empty sympathy. It sounded as if he actually meant it.
I nodded. My throat hurt. “It’s okay.”
“And Silverwood,” he said after a beat. “Who paid your tuition? Joshua?”
I shook my head fast. “No. No. I—um. I have a full ride.”
