Chapter 147

Angela POV

I pushed open the door to my apartment, feeling a strange lightness in my chest. The evening air had cleared my head during the walk home from the café, and despite the uncomfortable conversation with Christopher, I felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

Ethan was sitting on the bench in the entryway, his small face lighting up when he saw me.

"Mama, you're back," he said, sliding off the bench and walking toward me.

I smiled, setting my purse down on the side table. "Yes. Were you waiting for me?"

Ethan nodded. "Mama, did you and Christopher uncle have a fight?"

His perceptiveness sometimes caught me off guard. I knelt down to his level, keeping my voice gentle. "No, we didn't fight. I just needed to make some things clear to him."

Ethan hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his pajama top. "Mama, Christopher uncle... does he want to be our father?"

The directness of his question made me pause. I chose my words carefully, not wanting to burden him with adult complexities.

"He might have wanted that before," I admitted. "But after tonight, I don't think he'll want that anymore."

"So you rejected Christopher uncle?" Ethan's gaze was unwavering, almost too mature for his young face.

"Yes," I said simply. "I did."

His brow furrowed slightly. "Will Christopher uncle still come to see us?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly.

Ethan was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Are we still going to live here?"

The question gave me pause. I hadn't fully considered the implications of my conversation with Christopher. This apartment was his-he'd arranged it for us when we first returned to New York. While the rent was paid for several months in advance, continuing to live in his property after rejecting him felt wrong.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I've paid the rent already, but... this is Christopher's apartment. Would you mind if we moved? Would it be difficult for you and Aria?"

A small smile touched Ethan's lips. "If you want to move, Mama, I'll help explain to Aria. She'll understand."

My heart swelled with pride and gratitude. My little boy, so young yet so understanding. "Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate that."

Later that night, after putting the twins to bed, I sat cross-legged on my own bed with my phone in hand. The conversation with Mr. Night remained open on my screen, my last message still unanswered.

Had he gone to Le Bernardin after all? Was he angry that I hadn't shown up? Or perhaps something had come up on his end as well.

With a sigh, I set my phone on the nightstand. I'd have to try contacting him again tomorrow. After the emotional toll of the day, sleep was what I needed most.

"You're looking for a new apartment?" Marcus's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he leaned against my office door the next morning. "That's sudden. I thought you had everything arranged before moving back to New York."

I didn't look up from the rental listings on my computer screen. "I have my reasons. Just help me find some options, please."

He folded his arms, his expression turning knowing. "Wait a minute. Don't tell me your current place was arranged by that Blake guy? And now you're moving out because you turned him down?"

I finally looked up, fixing him with my most professional stare. "Marcus, if you channeled your gossip energy into actual work, our company's performance might improve significantly."

He laughed, unfazed by my deflection. "Fine, fine. But if you're planning to stay in New York long-term, you should consider buying a place instead of renting. Save yourself the hassle of moving again later."

His casual suggestion triggered a chain of thoughts I'd been avoiding.

Was I planning to stay in New York permanently?

What if Sean discovered the twins and tried to take them from me?

Had returning from Italy been a mistake?

I shook my head slightly, pushing away the doubts. No one could simply take my children-not even Sean. I had raised them for five years on my own. They were mine.

"Boss? Everything okay?" Marcus's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"I'm fine," I replied, straightening in my chair. "Let's focus on finding a suitable place."

I couldn't keep second-guessing myself. My employees were counting on me. I wouldn't let them down.

I left the office early that afternoon to pick up my new BMW.

New York's traffic was congested as always, and I drove carefully toward the twins' school, still getting used to the new vehicle.

As I approached the school entrance, I spotted Aria's dark curls bobbing animatedly as she spoke to a small boy I didn't recognize. Neither child noticed me immediately, too engrossed in their conversation.

"Mama!" they called in unison when they finally spotted me, Aria's face lighting up with excitement.

"Tommy, this is my mom," Aria said proudly, gesturing toward me with elaborate formality.

The little boy-Tommy-offered a polite nod. "Hello, Mrs. Wilson."

"Hello," I replied, studying him curiously.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the imported candies I'd picked up earlier, offering one to the unfamiliar child. Tommy hesitated, seemingly unsure whether he should accept.

"Tommy, take it!" Aria insisted, grabbing the candy and pressing it into his hand. "We're friends now, so you don't have to be shy with us."

I noticed Ethan watching silently, his lips pressed together in an expression that seemed neither welcoming nor hostile-just cautious.

"Thank you, Mrs. Wilson," Tommy said, his cheeks flushing slightly as he accepted the treat.

"He's Mr. Night uncle's relative," Aria explained cheerfully. "Mr. Night uncle brought him to school today."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "Mr. Night's... relative?"

"Uh-huh," Aria nodded enthusiastically. "Mr. Night also sponsors our school and has given us lots of gifts!"

My mind raced to process this information. So Mr. Night was connected to our school somehow, and wealthy enough to sponsor a child's education at this exclusive institution. It made sense that he might help a relative attend such a prestigious school.

The whole situation felt increasingly strange-if he was wealthy enough to send a relative's child to such an elite school, why would he claim to need money so urgently?

And why insist on being repaid in cash rather than through a simple bank transfer?

Something about the situation still didn't feel right, and as I gathered my children to leave, I couldn't shake the sensation that I was missing an important piece of the puzzle.