WHERE LOVE LIVES

CHAPTER THREE

SAFE HOUSES

‎The transition from a domestic prison to absolute luxury was a dizzying experience for Andy. For the forty-eight hours following his rescue from the Mason household, his world became a blur of soft velvet sheets, towering glass windows, and the quiet, heavy presence of his father, Miller.

‎Miller’s penthouse was a fortress overlooking the city, an architectural marvel of marble and steel. Yet, for Andy, it felt entirely too large. Having spent years making himself small—slipping between the shadows of the Mason house to avoid Harper's swinging palms—he found himself sitting rigidly on the edge of a custom leather sofa, his knees tucked tightly against his chest.

‎"You're doing it again, kiddo," Miller said, stepping into the massive living room. He had traded his sharp corporate suit for a soft cashmere sweater, though the exhaustion in his eyes remained. He carried a silver tray with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, piled high with miniature marshmallows.

‎Andy blinked, looking down at his hands, which were tightly gripping his own shins. He slowly let his legs drop, his bare feet touching the thick, plush rug. "Sorry, Dad. It’s just... a lot of space."

‎"Don't apologize. Never apologize to me for just existing, Andy," Miller said gently, sitting beside him and handing over a mug. He watched his son with a protective, aching gaze. "You can break the vases, you can stain the carpets, you can yell at the top of your lungs. This is your home now."

‎Andy took a sip, the sweetness coating his tongue, warming the tight knot that had settled in his chest since that fateful night. "Can I really just... do nothing?"

‎"You can do whatever your heart desires," Miller promised, reaching out to ruffle Andy's dark hair. "For the next few days, your only job is to rest. I have my legal team completely dismantling Mason’s access to the company. They’re going to be left with absolutely nothing by the time I'm through with them."

‎A faint, genuine smile broke across Andy’s face. For the first time in years, the weight on his shoulders felt a fraction lighter.The Park and the Chaos

‎By the morning of the second day, the walls of the penthouse began to feel less like a sanctuary and more like a beautifully gilded cage. Andy was restless. The bruises on his ribs from Harper’s previous assaults were still tender, but the freedom to move without fear was an intoxicating novelty.

‎"Dad, can I please just go down to the neighborhood park?" Andy pleaded over breakfast, pointing out the floor-to-ceiling glass window toward a vibrant green square a few blocks away. "Just for an hour. I want to sit under the sun. I won't be long."

‎Miller hesitated, a deep-seated instinct warning him to keep his son locked away from the world. But looking at the rare, bright spark of hope in Andy’s eyes, he sighed, his posture softening. "Alright. But take two of the security detail with you. And stay where they can see you."

‎"Deal!" Andy grinned, bolting from the table to grab a light hoodie.

‎The park was alive with the sights and sounds of a perfect afternoon. Children chased golden retrievers across the grass, vendors sold brightly colored ice cream, and the summer breeze carried the scent of freshly cut lawns. Andy sat on a green wooden bench, tilting his head back to let the warm sunlight wash over his face. For thirty minutes, he felt like a normal teenager.