The Shape of Her Love

Chapter 3

The little boy stood with one hand casually tucked in his pocket and the other hoisting a greasy-looking spatula over his shoulder. He was the picture of pint-sized swagger.

"You the old timer who brought my mom home?" Cody demanded, his face a mask of fierce protectiveness. He leveled the spatula directly at Julian. Julian’s brow furrowed at the slick of oil still visible on its edge.

On the other end of the line, his mother’s voice sharpened with alarm. "Julian? Is that a child?"

"I'll call you back," he said, ending the call. He focused his full attention on the boy. The kid’s defiant energy reminded him of a cornered black cat, all puffed-up fur and unsheathed claws, ready to pounce. "What did you just call me?"

The moment their eyes met, something strange happened. From the top of Julian's head, Cody saw a single, shimmering red thread sprout into existence.

Ever since he could remember, this would happen. He'd look someone in the eye, and a glowing red thread would appear, with the shimmering image of a person attached to the other end. Sometimes, there would be several images dangling from multiple threads. He was too young to understand what it meant at first. Then one day, he saw Mr. Henderson from next door sneak into Mrs. Gable's apartment. When Mr. Henderson came out later, a new thread had appeared above his head, and Mrs. Gable's face was shimmering at the end of it.

That’s when he figured it out. He could see people’s... tangles.

But this was weird. Why was this old timer’s thread connected to an image of his mom? And... huh. It was a slimmer version of his mom, but it was definitely her.

Cody stared, his wide, dark eyes unblinking. The guy was handsome, he guessed, but not nearly good enough for his mom.

"Listen up, old timer," Cody said, his voice full of solemn warning. "Stop bugging my mom. Otherwise, you're going to end up with a charming but diabolical new stepson. And when I grow up, I'll take over your company, steal all your money, and leave you old and broke."

This was his standard speech. It had successfully scared off every other man who had tried to pursue his mother. This guy looked rich, and rich guys were always trouble. He couldn't let his mom get tricked into having another baby with some deadbeat. One kid—him—was more than enough.

Since Julian had returned to the Thorne family and taken the reins of a financial empire, no one had dared to speak to him this way. But instead of anger, he felt a surprising surge of amusement. He even felt an impulse to poke the bear. "And what if I want to keep bugging your mom?"

"Then you'll have to get through my spatula first!" Cody declared, swinging the utensil so the tip aimed right between Julian's eyes.

"Sir!" the driver, Arthur, called out from the front seat, his voice tight with alarm.

Julian shot him a silencing look, and Arthur immediately went quiet, his back ramming against the seat.

The standoff was broken by a sudden jingle from the smartwatch on Cody's wrist. A second later, Willow's voice, amplified and exasperated, filled the air.

"Cody Hayes! You left the stove on! Where did you run off to? Get back here right now!"

The ferocious paper tiger instantly deflated, his bravado vanishing. He became, in a blink, a meek and cuddly kitten. "Mommy! We were out of salt! I just ran out to buy some! I'm coming right back!"

He lowered his weapon and shot Julian one last glare, shaking a tiny fist. "Don't let me see you again, old timer!"

With that parting shot, Cody shouldered his spatula and bolted into the labyrinthine entrance of the old walk-up.

Inside the Bentley, Julian watched him go, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. So, that was Ms. Hayes's son. And he'd clearly mistaken him for a suitor.

"Interesting," Julian murmured.

The driver, Arthur, didn't see what was so interesting about a rude, unkempt child. "Sir," he ventured carefully, "they say nothing good ever comes from the slums. Are you certain a teacher from this... environment is suitable for Master Damian?"

Damian Thorne was a true prince of the city. His father, Elias Thorne—Julian's older brother and the family's previous patriarch—had vanished without a trace five years ago. If not for that, Julian would never have been called back to inherit the family business. Damian's mother, Catherine DeWitt, was the daughter of a shipping magnate. Theirs had been the society wedding of the decade, a union of equals, the city's golden couple.

For the first year after Elias disappeared, Catherine had held out hope. By the third, she had accepted her new reality, spending her nights at parties and her days anywhere but home. Their family shattered, and without parental guidance, Damian had become a wild, uncontrollable delinquent whose grades were in freefall.

Even so, Arthur thought, the boy deserved the best tutors money could buy, not some random teacher from a rundown neighborhood. Unless... unless Julian's plan was to let Damian fall into ruin, permanently eliminating any future threat to his own power. The thought was so cold-blooded it sent a shiver down Arthur's spine. He would have to report this to the old master.

Julian's voice was ice. "Arthur. Are you questioning my decision?"

Arthur felt his scalp tingle with fear. Julian Thorne's ruthlessness was the stuff of legend in New York. The only reason he had the nerve to speak at all was because he had been assigned to Julian by the old patriarch himself.

Seeing the driver shrink back like a terrified quail, Julian lost interest. He leaned back against the leather seat, a wave of weariness washing over him. "Just drive."

Arthur didn't dare say another word, pulling the Bentley smoothly back into the flow of traffic.

Cody tore through the crowded, messy hallways like a miniature tornado. He ran into his friend Leo on the first-floor landing.

"Cody! Was that guy in the car going to be your new dad?" Leo asked, his eyes wide. "My mom said that car is super expensive! Are you and your mom gonna be rich now?"

Leo's mom was Mrs. Gable, the building's resident gossip-in-chief. Cody had once looked her in the eyes and seen a whole forest of red threads sprouting from her head, tangled with the faces of countless men.

Cody patted his friend on the head. "Nah. My mom's not interested in that old timer."

Leo looked relieved. "Okay, good! I'll keep watch for you tomorrow. If I see anything, I'll let you know!"

"Deal! I gotta go cook for my mom. See ya tomorrow!"

Cody sprinted up the stairs. It had been Leo who'd tipped him off that a fancy car was dropping his mom home. He'd been in the middle of making her favorite pot roast and had bolted out without even turning off the stove, grabbing his trusty spatula on the way.

The moment he opened the apartment door, the acrid smell of burnt sugar hit him. He tiptoed in, hugging the wall and creeping towards the kitchen.

Suddenly, a hand, soft but firm, clamped down on his ear. "Cody Hayes. Where's the salt you went to buy?"

Cody yelped, standing on his toes. He covered his ear, putting on his most angelic smile. "Mommy, let me... uh... explain."

"Oh?" Willow raised a skeptical eyebrow.

He immediately dropped the act and opted for a bald-faced lie. "I gave the salt to Leo downstairs. He needed it for his dumplings."

Willow thought of little Leo, a sweet kid from a tough situation, and her grip softened. She took the spatula from his hand. "Go wash up for dinner."

Cody scurried away, deftly dodging the various buckets and pans scattered across the living room floor to catch the drips from the leaky ceiling. The apartment was perpetually damp and stuffy during the rainy season.

Willow set the table. She'd eaten plenty at the gala and had no appetite.

Cody emerged from the bathroom and sat down across from her. As their eyes met, he saw a faint red thread shimmer into existence above his mother's head. At the end of it was the face of a young man—the face he'd seen many times before, the one that belonged to his deadbeat dad.

But looking at it now... he noticed the man's eyes and the sharp line of his jaw seemed strangely similar to the powerful old timer in the car tonight.

Cody speared a piece of burnt pot roast, his gaze fixed on his mother. She seemed off, a quiet sadness clinging to her. It had to be because of the guy who dropped her off.

Cody wasn't a typical four-year-old. Growing up in a place like this, you learned to be smart, to be watchful. Though his body was small, his mind was sharp.

He poked at the rice in his bowl. "Willow," he asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "Was that man who brought you home... my dad?"