The relief hits me so hard my knees almost buckle.
"There you are," I breathe, rushing forward.
Henry looks at the ground, not at me. "I was just saying hi to Jenny," he mutters, not meeting my eyes. "She's in my class. She said she was coming. I told you."
I pull him into a hug anyway, gripping him tight enough that he stiffens. The guard clears his throat gently, then steps away, already disengaging.
Henry pulls back, cheeks flushed. "You didn't have to freak out," he says quietly.
I swallow the apology burning my throat. Because he's right. And because it doesn't matter.
The security guard steps closer. "Ma'am, we've been in contact with your husband's security team. They've instructed us to escort you both to a secure exit." His voice is neutral but his eyes flick to my face with recognition. "And for you to go home."
My stomach drops. Increased interest. Headlines forming as we speak.
Another guard joins us, and suddenly we're being moved through the convention center with purpose.
"I didn't get to see anything," Henry says, his voice small and tight.
"I know," I say. "Sorry. But you didn't stay with me. You disappeared. And your dad freaked out when we were missing."
The words feel woefully inadequate.
We're guided through a service corridor, then out a side door where a black SUV waits. Not mine. Not Arthur's regular driver. Security detail.
They'll send someone for my car.
The ride home is quiet. Henry stares out the window, embarrassment radiating off him in waves. I keep replaying the moment over and over—when I turned, when he wasn't there, when panic took over.
I never should have taken him there in the first place.
My phone buzzes with a text. Quinn.
Are you okay?
The text is simple. Direct. Non-judgmental.
We're fine. Coming home now.
I type back.
I don't ask if Arthur knows. I don't need to. Of course he knows.
The city slides past the window, beautiful and indifferent. Henry's reflection stares back at me, his expression shuttered in a way that reminds me too much of his father.
"I'm sorry," I say again. "I should have watched you better."
Henry sighs. "It wasn't your fault. I saw Jenny and just went to say hi. I should have told you." He glances at me, then away. "Are we in trouble?"
"I am," I say honestly.
Arthur's house comes into view sooner than I'm ready for. Lights on. Security posted. His car already in the drive.
As the SUV comes to a stop, I know this: Henry may be safe. I am not.
