Chapter 142

Sean POV

Through the Bentley's tinted windows, I watched as Christopher Blake helped my children out of his car. My children. The possessive thought burned like acid in my stomach.

And there was Angela, smiling politely at Christopher as he leaned closer to speak to her. Something twisted painfully in my chest.

Five years apart, and now this man thought he could simply step into my place? Into my family?

"Thomas," I said, not taking my eyes off the trio, "did you hear what Blake just said to her?"

Thomas adjusted his glasses, peering through the window. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Shaw. They're too far away for me to read lips accurately."

My jaw clenched as Christopher's hand briefly touched Angela's arm before he turned to walk the twins to the school entrance. The casual intimacy of the gesture made my blood boil.

This man thought he could be a father to my children? My children?

I unlocked my phone and typed quickly:

Me (as Night): Today convenient for our transaction?

Angela's response came almost immediately:

Angela: What time were you thinking?

Me (as Night): Afternoon.

Angela: I'm afraid this afternoon won't work. Could we reschedule for tomorrow?

I knew it. She had plans with Christopher. My fingers moved swiftly across the screen:

Me (as Night): No. I need the money urgently today. Can't you change your plans?

I could almost picture her expression-that slight furrow between her brows when she felt cornered. She didn't know "Mr. Night" was me, of course.

Angela: If it's that urgent, I could wire the money directly to your account. Carrying that much cash isn't safe anyway.

I smiled grimly. Of course she'd try to find a compromise. That was Angela-always practical, always trying to find the middle ground. But I needed her away from Christopher Blake today.

Me (as Night): No. I need cash. Le Bernardin, 4pm. Private room upstairs.

"So we're agreed on the plan?" I asked Thomas as we sat in my office later that morning, the Manhattan skyline stretching beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Thomas nodded, flipping through his tablet notes. "I believe I've found a suitable candidate, Mr. Shaw. They're distant relatives of the Shaw family-so distant that I'd have trouble explaining the exact connection. They live in the Bronx, both parents work at mid-level corporate jobs, and they have a son about the same age as your children."

"Current school situation?"

"Local public preschool. Nothing special." Thomas adjusted his glasses. "I've arranged to contact them today, but I should mention there might be resistance. The social and economic gap is substantial, and they might question why a distant relative like yourself would suddenly take interest in their child's education."

I leaned back in my chair, drumming my fingers against the polished mahogany desk. "Offer them whatever it takes. Full scholarship, housing allowance, future college fund-make it impossible to refuse."

"And if they ask about your sudden interest?"

"Tell them I'm expanding the Shaw family's charitable initiatives, starting with those who share our blood. Make it sound altruistic." I waved my hand dismissively. "Just get it done."

Thomas made a note. "And once they agree? What's the next step?"

"The child transfers to my children's school immediately. We arrange 'coincidental' meetings. The children become friends. It's simple."

"And the parents? They'll expect to meet you."

I hadn't considered that. "Keep my involvement minimal. I'm a busy man supporting their child's future. Any necessary meetings can be brief and formal."

Thomas hesitated. "Mr. Shaw, if I may... this plan requires the child to stay somewhere near the school. The commute from the Bronx would be impractical."

"Put them up in a hotel near the school."

"I've been thinking about the logistics," Thomas continued. "As part of the scholarship, we could arrange for the child to visit your apartment on weekends for enrichment activities. This would create natural opportunities to invite Aria and Ethan over for playdates."

I raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to entertain a child I barely know every weekend?"

"It would be limited to scheduled visits, sir. And it provides the perfect pretext to invite your children to your home without raising suspicions." Thomas adjusted his glasses. "We would never separate the child from his parents-that would be cruel. This is simply an educational opportunity with some social benefits."

I considered this. The thought of my empty penthouse occasionally filled with children's laughter-a stepping stone to eventually having my own children there-stirred something unexpected within me.

"Fine," I conceded. "But be clear with the family-this is about educational opportunities, not taking their child away from them."

By late afternoon, I sat in the private dining room at Le Bernardin, scowling at the empty chair across from me. Thomas stood near the window, his reflection visible in the darkened glass.

"She's not late yet, Mr. Shaw," he observed quietly. "It's only 3:55."

I didn't respond, staring instead at the entrance visible from our elevated position. My mood had darkened throughout the day, thoughts of Angela meeting with Christopher consuming me despite my efforts to focus on work.

"May I ask why you're still so upset?" Thomas ventured. "Ms. Wilson has already agreed to meet 'Mr. Night' here."

"She agreed to meet 'Mr. Night,'" I said coldly. "She has no idea it's me. For all I know, she already spent the afternoon with Blake."

Thomas was quiet for a moment. "Mr. Shaw, if I may speak frankly..."

I gestured impatiently for him to continue.

"Ms. Wilson has been raising your children alone for five years. You were legally divorced. Her keeping some distance from you isn't unreasonable, especially given the circumstances."

His words hit me with unexpected force. Five years. My children had lived five years without me. And Angela had been alone all that time, raising them by herself. Instead of remarrying or moving on, she'd remained single-focused solely on our children.

Rather than feeling angry that she might be spending time with Blake, shouldn't I be grateful she hadn't married someone else in all this time?

"You're more perceptive than I give you credit for, Thomas," I admitted, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders.

"Thank you, sir." He paused. "Though such insights might merit consideration during our next compensation review."

I almost smiled. "We'll discuss that back at the office."

"About the child from the Bronx," Thomas continued. "Everything is arranged. The family has agreed to the scholarship and weekend program. We can meet them tomorrow to discuss the details."

"Good." I nodded. "Though I won't have him calling me 'father' or anything similar. That title is reserved for my own children."

"'Uncle' would be more appropriate," Thomas suggested. "It matches how Aria and Ethan know 'Mr. Night' already. And it maintains appropriate boundaries with the family."

"Acceptable. Make sure the parents understand their child will always return home to them. This is about creating opportunities, not separating families."

We spent the next few minutes discussing logistics when movement at the restaurant entrance caught my eye. My heart stuttered as a familiar figure appeared in the doorway.