Chapter 98

Sean POV

Evening shadows stretched across my presidential suite at the Plaza as I stared out at the Manhattan skyline.

The city lights were beginning to twinkle to life, a tapestry of artificial stars spreading out beneath the darkening sky. I'd loosened my tie hours ago, but hadn't bothered to change out of my suit despite returning from the business meeting nearly two hours earlier.

A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

"Mr. Shaw?" Thomas entered with that practiced deference that reminded me how much I missed Michael. Five years, and I still wasn't used to his replacement. "Your dinner has arrived."

"Just leave it there," I murmured, gesturing vaguely toward the side table.

"Sir, you haven't eaten all day," Thomas pointed out, setting down the tray with careful precision. "And Dr. Carter was very clear about taking your medication with food."

I sighed, finally turning from the window. The silver dome covering the plate gleamed in the soft lamplight, but the thought of food only intensified the dull ache in my stomach.

"I'm not hungry."

"Mr. Shaw," Thomas tried again, concern evident in his voice, "your condition won't improve if you don't maintain regular meals. Perhaps just a few bites?"

"Fine," I conceded, more to end the conversation than from any desire to eat. "I'll try some of it later."

Thomas nodded, relieved to have extracted even this small promise.

"Your medication is beside the water glass, sir. And should I confirm your attendance at tomorrow's charity gala? Mr. Lawrence has called twice to personally request your presence."

At the mention of another social obligation-another evening of meaningless small talk and strategic networking-I felt a familiar weariness settle deeper into my bones. "Tell her I'll try to make an appearance."

Once Thomas retreated, I loosened my tie further and sank into the armchair by the window. My phone buzzed on the side table, and I reached for it automatically, expecting another email from the office.

Instead, I found a notification from Instagram-LittleChefsTuscany had gone live. Something inside me softened before I could stop it.

Five years.

Five years since she'd disappeared without a trace, taking with her any chance of understanding what had gone wrong.

Five years of throwing myself into work, of building Shaw Group higher and higher, as if reaching some invisible threshold might finally fill the emptiness she'd left behind.

I tapped on the notification, watching as the screen filled with the image of a sunlit kitchen. Two children in oversized chef hats were arranging ingredients on a marble countertop.

"Welcome everyone!" the little girl-Aria-announced with theatrical flourish. "Today we're making seafood risotto!"

Her brother-Ethan-nodded solemnly beside her, already measuring rice with careful precision.

"It's one of Mama's special recipes," he added, his voice carrying that endearing formality that reminded me strangely of myself at that age.

I'd stumbled across their account six months ago during a particularly bleak night. Something about these children-their unself-conscious joy, their earnest approach to their cooking "show"-had caught my attention and held it.

In a world of carefully curated content, their authenticity shone through.

The boy's methodical precision and the girl's effervescent personality provided a contrast that was both familiar and captivating.

As the livestream was ending, Aria said, "Mom tells us we need to eat properly and stay healthy. Enjoy your meal today, everyone!"

After hearing her say this, I couldn't help but reach for my dinner tray and start eating.

Just after I had finished taking a shower, there was a knock at the door. I thought it was hotel service, but when I opened the door, I saw a woman in revealing, provocative clothing standing there.

She wore a sheer black lace slip dress, so short it barely covered the tops of her thighs, her cleavage a deep shadow beneath the flimsy fabric

"Good evening, sir," she purred, her voice low and sultry, sliding into my ears like velvet. "I'm a special gift from Mr. Lawrence, here to help you unwind tonight." Her eyes locked onto mine, shimmering with brazen intent.

I frowned, immediately understanding who-or what-she was. "No, thank you," I said curtly, turning to close the door.

But she was quicker. One slender arm shot out to brace the doorframe, her body leaning forward until her chest nearly brushed against my shirt.

"Don't be so quick to say no," she giggled,"You've had a long day, haven't you? I know exactly how to make you feel good"

Her movements grew bolder. The hem of her dress rode up as she swayed her hips, revealing the curve of her thighs and the faint outline of her ass beneath the fabric.

She reached up and tugged at one thin strap of her dress, letting it slip off her shoulder. The material fell away, exposing one full breast, the nipple faintly visible through the lace.

"See? I'm here just for you. Are you really going to turn down such a nice gift?"

I inhaled sharply, forcing down the irritation rising in my chest, and grabbed her wrist, pushing her back firmly.

"I said no. Please leave," I stated, my voice cold and final.

"Alright, sir, you're breaking my heart," she teased, slowly adjusting her dress back into place."If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

As she left, I pressed a hand against my abdomen, feeling the familiar burning sensation intensify. The encounter had left a sour taste in my mouth that had nothing to do with food.

Is this what business had become in my world?

Beautiful women offered as incentives, as if I were some hormone-driven teenager rather than the CEO of one of the largest financial groups in the country?

The pain sharpened suddenly, forcing me to sit down. I fumbled for my medication, swallowing the pills dry as I focused on controlling my breathing.

I lay alone in bed, waiting for the pain to slowly fade away.

My phone buzzed from where I'd left it on the sofa. I retrieved it, finding another Instagram notification-not a live broadcast this time, but a direct message from the LittleChefsTuscany account.

Curious, I opened it.

Would it be possible to speak privately? I appreciate your support of the children's channel, but I'd like to understand who's being so generous.

I stared at the message for a long time, considering my options. I'd never responded to previous messages from the account, preferring to remain an anonymous benefactor.

I thought it's better to just ignore it for now.

But after I hesitated for a moment, I replied to the account message:

You want to talk to me? About what?