Chapter 335

Author’s POV

Meanwhile at Quinn Estate...

The dining room of Quinn Estate radiated old money sophistication—crystal chandeliers casting warm light over the antique mahogany table where Ryan Blackwood sat opposite Ethan Quinn. Maya Carter, Ryan’s closest friend and business partner, completed their unlikely dinner trio.

"These oysters are incredible," Maya remarked, sipping her white wine. "Almost good enough to make me forget I had to handle the entire west wing setup solo today."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Issues with the new branch opening?"

"Not issues exactly," Maya replied carefully, setting down her fork with deliberate precision. "Just some last-minute curveballs. The signing ceremony went smoothly, but our star designer was a no-show."

Ethan’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. "Star designer? You mean—"

"Serena Lancaster," Maya confirmed. "Her assistant—Sally, right?—covered everything, but you could tell she was rattled."

Ryan’s expression didn’t change, but his grip on his wine glass tightened almost imperceptibly. "What was the excuse this time?"

Maya’s eyebrows shot up. "This time? Ryan, it was a genuine emergency. Her daughter Rancy came down with a sudden high fever that spiked to 104 degrees. Had to rush her to the ER this morning."

At the mention of "Rancy," little Vivian Blackwood, who had been quietly coloring at her own small table nearby, dropped her crayon and spun around.

"Rancy sick?" Vivian’s big eyes widened with genuine panic. "My friend Rancy? "

Ethan and Maya exchanged a loaded glance that didn’t escape Ryan’s notice.

"You know this child?" Ryan asked, his tone suddenly sharp enough to cut glass.

Ethan shifted uncomfortably. "They’re in the same preschool class. I’ve seen them together during pickup."

"Together how?" Ryan’s interrogation mode had fully activated.

"Playing. Laughing. You know, normal kid stuff." Ethan was clearly trying to downplay it. "Rancy’s about a year younger than Vivian, but they’ve bonded. It’s actually quite sweet—"

"Sweet?" Vivian practically bounced in her chair. "Rancy is my bestest friend in the whole world! She makes the best sand castles and she shares her animal crackers and her mama is so pretty and nice and—"

"Vivian, breathe," Ryan interrupted, but his daughter was on a roll.

"And Rancy’s mama always smells like flowers and she has the most beautiful smile and she never gets mad when we get messy and she always remembers to pack extra juice boxes for me because she knows I get thirsty and—"

"Enough." Ryan’s voice was firm but not harsh. "Eat your dinner."

But Vivian was having none of it. She scrambled onto her father’s lap without asking—something she rarely did in company. "Daddy, we have to go see Rancy right now! She’s sick and scared and she needs me!"

Ryan gently but firmly lifted his daughter back to her feet. "No, princess. If Rancy is sick, she needs to rest and get better. Hospitals aren’t places for little girls to visit."

"But Daddy!" Vivian’s voice cracked with emotion. "What if she thinks I don’t care? What if she’s crying for me? What if she’s all alone and scared?"

Maya’s heart visibly melted. "Oh sweetheart, I’m sure Rancy knows you care—"

"Maya." Ryan’s warning was crystal clear.

But Maya completely ignored him. "You know what, Vivian? Maybe we could make Rancy a get-well card tomorrow. Would you like that?"

Vivian’s face lit up like Christmas morning. "Yes! With sparkles and rainbows and a unicorn because Rancy loves unicorns and maybe we could put stickers on it and—"

"Absolutely not." Ryan’s voice cut through the excitement like a blade.

The room went dead silent. Even the grandfather clock seemed to stop ticking.

Vivian’s face crumpled instantly. "But... but why, Daddy?"

"Because I said so." Ryan’s tone carried that unmistakable parental finality. "You’re too young to be worrying about sick children or visiting hospitals. And you certainly don’t need to be getting attached to random classmates."

"Random?" Vivian’s voice was barely a whisper, but the hurt was deafening. "Rancy’s not random! She’s my friend!"

"She’s a child you play with at school sometimes. That’s different."

Tears started streaming down Vivian’s cheeks. "That’s not true! Rancy is special! She makes me happy! She—"

"Vivian, enough. You’re being dramatic."

That was apparently the last straw. Without another word, Vivian ran from the dining room, her sobs echoing down the hallway like a soundtrack of heartbreak.

"Margaret," Ryan called, and the nanny appeared immediately. "Please get Vivian calmed down and ready for bed."

After Margaret hurried after the distraught child, the silence in the dining room was thick enough to choke on.

Maya was the first to break it. "What the hell was that, Ryan?"

"That was parenting." Ryan continued cutting his steak like nothing had happened.

"That was emotional terrorism." Maya’s voice was dangerously low. "She’s three years old and worried about her friend. That’s called having a heart."

Ethan cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Maybe we could find a middle ground here. The children clearly care about each other—"

"The children are three years old. They’ll forget about each other by next week."

Maya slammed her wine glass down so hard the crystal rang. "Jesus Christ, Ryan! Do you even hear yourself?"

"Watch your tone, Maya."

"Or what? You’ll cut me out of your life too?" Maya was on fire now. "Because that seems to be your specialty—burning bridges and pretending emotions don’t exist."

Ryan’s jaw was ticking dangerously. "This has nothing to do with—"

"This has everything to do with her!" Maya’s voice cracked with frustration. "Serena would have handled this completely differently. She would have validated Vivian’s feelings, maybe explained why they couldn’t visit today but promised to send a card or a drawing. She would have turned this into a teachable moment about compassion instead of crushing a little girl’s heart."

The name hung in the air like a toxic cloud.

Ryan set down his knife and fork with surgical precision. "Serena isn’t here."

Ethan looked like he wanted to disappear into his chair. "Maybe we should change the subject—"

"No." Maya was relentless now. "He needs to hear this. That little girl upstairs is crying herself to sleep because her father can’t stand the thought of her showing basic human empathy. And you know why? Because it reminds you of everything you threw away."

Finally, Ryan’s voice came out like gravel. "Vivian is my daughter. How I raise her is my business."

"And when she grows up wondering why Daddy never let her feel anything? When she can’t form healthy relationships because her father taught her that caring about people is weakness?" Maya’s voice was breaking now. "What then, Ryan? What then?"

Without another word, Ryan walked out of the dining room, leaving Maya and Ethan sitting in the wreckage of what had started as a simple dinner party.

Maya buried her face in her hands. "God, Ethan. Sometimes I look at him and wonder where the man I used to know went."

Ethan reached across and squeezed her shoulder gently. "He’s still in there, Maya. Just... buried under a lot of pain."

"Yeah, well, he’s not the only one who’s hurting." Maya’s voice was muffled by her hands. "And now that little girl upstairs is paying the price for his inability to deal with his own demons."

Upstairs, the sound of Vivian’s muffled sobs could still be heard through the walls.