Chapter Six
1228 Words
If my first day had been about survival, the second was about endurance.
I woke before my alarm, the echo of Liam’s hopeful voice still ringing in my ears.
Can Angel stay forever?
The words wrapped around my heart and squeezed until it hurt. I knew better than to let myself believe in “forever.” Nothing in my life had ever lasted long enough to deserve that word, not comfort, not stability, not safety. Still, the thought lingered as I dressed quietly, careful not to wake Mom.
She was already asleep on the couch when I passed the living room, her dinner uniform folded neatly on the chair beside her. Dark circles framed her eyes, and guilt twisted in my chest. This job wasn’t a luxury. It was a lifeline.
I stepped outside into the early Miami morning, the air warm and heavy even before sunrise. By the time I reached the Knight estate again, the sun was already climbing, painting the mansion in gold.
It still felt unreal every time I stood in front of those gates.
This wasn’t my world.
But Liam was inside.
That thought steadied me.
Liam was already awake when I entered the playroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor, carefully lining up toy animals by size.
“Angel!” he cried when he saw me, scrambling to his feet.
He collided with my legs, arms wrapping tight around my knees.
I laughed softly, crouching to hug him back. “Good morning, superstar.”
“You came back,” he said, as if surprised.
The words cut deeper than they should have.
“Of course I did,” I said gently. “I told you I would.”
He studied my face seriously, as if committing it to memory, then nodded. “Okay.”
That simple trust nearly undid me.
We spent the morning reading books and drawing dinosaurs, Liam narrating every crayon stroke with dramatic flair. He had a vivid imagination, one fueled by loneliness more than I liked to admit. Every character he invented had a companion. Every story ended with someone staying.
I tried not to read too much into it.
Dean stayed distant.
I felt him before I saw him, his presence heavy, controlled. When he stepped into the playroom doorway, the air seemed to shift.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning, Mr. Knight,” I replied automatically.
His jaw tightened. “Dean,” he corrected flatly.
“Dean,” I repeated, though the name felt strange on my tongue.
He nodded once, then turned his attention to Liam. “Did you sleep well?”
Liam shrugged. “Angel was here yesterday.”
Something flickered across Dean’s face too fast to identify.
“Good,” he said. “I’ll be in meetings most of the day.”
I nodded. “We’ll be fine.”
His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary, as if weighing something unspoken, then he turned and left.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
The mansion felt less intimidating once I settled into a routine. Liam thrived on structure, and I learned quickly what soothed him: soft music during lunch, stories before nap time, holding his hand when he grew quiet.
It was during his nap that my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
My stomach dropped.
I stared at the screen until it stopped ringing, then buzzed again, this time with a text.
You can’t keep ignoring us, Angel. Your father’s debt didn’t disappear.
My hands trembled.
I typed back quickly.
I’m working. I’ll send something soon. Please don’t contact me here.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
You don’t get to make demands.
I shoved the phone into my bag just as footsteps approached.
Dean.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I looked up too quickly. “Yes. Just… checking the time.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t push. “Liam still asleep?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He hesitated, then added, “We’re going to the park this afternoon.”
My heart skipped. “The public one near Biscayne Bay?”
“Yes. Security will be nearby.”
I smiled despite myself. “He’ll love that.”
Dean studied me again, something unreadable in his gaze. “You’re doing well,” he said finally.
The words startled me.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
He nodded once and left.
I stood there frozen for a moment, the weight of his approval sinking in.
It shouldn’t have mattered.
But it did.
The park was alive with sound and sunlight. Children laughed, joggers passed, and the ocean breeze carried salt and warmth. Liam ran ahead, dragging me toward the swings, his laughter contagious.
Dean sat on a nearby bench, phone in hand, pretending not to watch.
But he was watching.
I saw it every time Liam laughed a little too loudly or stumbled, and I caught him instinctively. Every time Liam looked back to make sure I was still there.
Dean’s eyes followed us constantly.
When Liam grew tired, he climbed into my lap, head resting against my shoulder.
“You smell nice,” he murmured sleepily.
I smiled. “So do you.”
Dean cleared his throat. “We should head back.”
Liam groaned but didn’t protest as Dean lifted him gently.
For a brief moment, our hands brushed as Dean passed him to me so I could buckle him into the car.
The contact sent a strange awareness through me—warm, unsettling.
Dean noticed too.
He stepped back immediately.
That night, the house felt quieter than usual.
Liam fell asleep easily, clutching my hand until his breathing evened out. I stayed longer than necessary, afraid that if I moved too soon, he’d wake up.
When I finally stepped into the hallway, Dean was there.
“You didn’t have to stay so long,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t mind.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched between us.
“You’re good with him,” Dean said again, this time more serious. “Too good.”
I frowned. “Is that a problem?”
“It can be,” he replied. “People leave.”
The words were sharp, defensive.
“I’m not planning to,” I said before I could stop myself.
Dean’s gaze locked onto mine. “You don’t know that.”
The distance between us felt charged, heavy with everything neither of us was saying.
“I know what it’s like to need someone,” I said softly. “And to be afraid they’ll disappear.”
His jaw tightened. “You should get some rest.”
Dismissal.
I nodded, heart pounding. “Good night, Dean.”
As I walked away, I felt his eyes on my back.
Later, lying in bed in the guest room, I stared at the ceiling much like I had that morning, but only now, the weight was heavier.
This job wasn’t just about money anymore.
It was about a little boy who trusted too easily.
A man who had locked his heart away.
And me standing right between them, trying not to fall.
I whispered into the dark, “Please don’t let me ruin this.”
But even as sleep finally claimed me, one truth echoed louder than all the others:
I was already in deeper than I’d planned.
- Writer
