Chapter 99

Angela POV

The blue glow of my phone illuminated the darkened bedroom as I stared at the notification. NightShadow had finally responded to my message.

You want to talk to me? About what?

Simple. Direct. Almost defensive. I sat up in bed, the silk sheets sliding away as I considered my response.

Yes, I'd like to know who's been so generous with my children's channel. Your donations are substantial, and I'm not comfortable accepting them without knowing who you are.

I hit send before I could overthink it. The response came surprisingly quickly.

The children bring joy to many people. My donations are simply appreciation.

I frowned at the screen. Again, direct and spare with details. No personal information volunteered.

May I know what to call you, at least? Or how you discovered their channel?

The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, then reappeared.

You can call me Shadow. I found their channel by chance. Your daughter reminds me of someone I once knew.

My breath caught. There was something in the phrasing that made me uneasy. I glanced instinctively toward the twins' bedroom, a protective surge running through me.

I appreciate your generosity, but the amount you've donated is excessive. I'd like to return most of it. Could you provide account information?

Another pause, longer this time.

No need. Consider it an investment in their future.

The brevity was frustrating. Each response revealed nothing while provoking more questions.

The total is over $15,000 in six months. That's not a simple tip for a children's cooking show.

I waited, watching as the typing indicator appeared and disappeared several times. Finally:

I wasn't aware of the total. Keep it. They deserve it.

The dismissive tone about such a large sum of money suggested significant wealth. A Wall Street type, perhaps? The thought made me tense, memories of that world-of Sean-surfacing unwanted.

I'll contact you tomorrow for account details. Goodnight, Shadow.

I set the phone aside, knowing I wouldn't receive more tonight.

The gentle clatter of pots and pans roused me from sleep.

I slipped from bed, throwing on a silk robe over my nightgown before padding toward the kitchen. The marble floor felt cold against my bare feet as I rounded the corner and found Christopher Blake arranging breakfast on the dining table.

He looked up as I entered, his amber eyes warming at the sight of me. The elegant lines of his Tom Ford white shirt contrasted with the deep tan of his skin, sleeves rolled up precisely to mid-forearm as he arranged fresh-cut fruit on fine china.

"Good morning, Angela," he greeted, his British-Italian accent more pronounced in the early hours. "I hope you don't mind the intrusion."

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly aware of my disheveled appearance. "Christopher. I wasn't expecting you."

His eyes dropped to my bare feet, a small frown crossing his features. "The marble is cold. You should wear slippers."

Without argument, I retreated to grab a pair of slippers, returning properly shod a moment later.

"Better?" I asked, unable to keep the slight teasing from my voice.

He nodded, satisfied, and pulled out a chair for me.

"I noticed you've been busy with the children's broadcasts and your consulting work. I thought perhaps you might be neglecting your own breakfast."

I settled into the chair, taking in the spread before me. Fresh croissants from the bakery in the village, sliced fruit arranged in a perfect spiral, eggs Benedict with hollandaise sauce that looked restaurant-quality.

"You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to." He poured coffee into a delicate cup, adding precisely the amount of cream I preferred without asking.

I smiled faintly. Christopher had my house keys. Whenever he had free time, he would come help me take care of the children. I couldn't imagine how I would have raised two children alone without his help.

"The twins are sleeping in today?" he asked .

"They were up late last night. Their cooking show ran longer than usual."

I didn't mention my late-night conversation with the mysterious Shadow. Something held me back from sharing that particular concern.

"Their following is growing impressively. Aria has quite the camera presence."

"She does," I agreed, feeling the familiar surge of maternal pride. "Ethan balances her perfectly. He's so meticulous."

"Like his mother," Christopher observed with a small smile.

"Sophie tells me you're considering returning to New York," Christopher said, setting down his coffee cup. "To start your own firm."

"I've been thinking about it," I admitted. "Not Lawrence Capital, but starting something of my own. A boutique advisory firm, perhaps."

Christopher's eyes lit with interest. "That's an excellent idea. "

"It would be small," I cautioned. "Just enough clients to be intellectually stimulating without taking too much time away from the twins."

"Why New York?" he asked casually. "London would position you well for European markets. My firm could provide office space, administrative support..."

I shook my head immediately. "Christopher, I appreciate the offer, but I need to do this independently. I already owe you too much."

His expression softened. "Angela, you've never owed me anything."

"That's not true." I set down my fork, meeting his gaze directly. "The villa, your legal team helping with my residency status, the twins' school tuition-"

"Investments," he interrupted gently. "In people I care about."

I sighed, feeling the familiar weight of his generosity. "That's exactly why I need to stand on my own. I can't keep accepting everything you offer without-"

"Without what?" he prompted when I didn't finish.

Without giving you what you really want, I thought but didn't say.

"New York makes sense," I said instead. "I still have contacts there, and the twins should connect with their American heritage."

Christopher studied me for a moment, then nodded. "If New York is where you want to be, then I'll support that decision."

"Thank you." I took another sip of coffee, relieved that he hadn't pushed the issue.

"Actually," he continued, "I've been considering expanding my firm's presence in the American market."

I looked up sharply. "What?"

"It's been in the planning stages for about a month now." He spoke casually, as though discussing the weather. "New York would be the logical headquarters for our North American operations."

"Christopher..." I started, suspicion creeping into my voice.

He raised a hand. "Before you accuse me of making business decisions based on personal feelings, I have a complete market analysis and five-year projection prepared. You're welcome to review it."

"You just happened to be planning an American expansion right when I decide to move back to New York?" My skepticism was evident.

"Come to my office later," he suggested. "I'll show you the reports. They're quite thorough."

"I might do that"

Later that morning, I visited Christopher's office to review his market reports.

"The projections are sound," I admitted, gathering my portfolio from his desk. "Though perhaps a bit conservative."

"I told you it was a legitimate business decision."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

It seemed Christopher wasn't planning to move his company headquarters to New York just for me.

"I should go home to check on the children," I told Christopher.

But as I walked out of his office building, I heard his employees whispering in Italian.

"Look, there's Wilson visiting Mr. Blake again. Who does she think she is?"