Chapter Four

Aiden

“You shouldn’t act like you’re doing me a favor, Aiden!” Ms. Victoria’s voice blasted through the phone, making the speaker crackle with the sharpness of her anger. I winced, feeling the irritation settle into my half-asleep haze. Rolling over, I placed the phone on speaker and set it down on the bedside table, groaning internally.

“Okay,” I muttered, barely awake, my voice sluggish with the remnants of sleep.

Rubbing my eyes, I caught a glimpse of the clock. 7:50 a.m. Too early for this. I leaned back, resting my head against the headboard, and fought to shake off the drowsiness clouding my mind. But her voice clawed through the quiet of my room, the words sharp and cutting.

“I really hoped you’d turn out better than your father.”

A familiar, bitter feeling twisted in my stomach. I exhaled, feeling the sting behind my eyes—not from fatigue anymore but from a buried frustration I hadn’t wanted to touch this morning. “You didn’t exactly work toward that goal,” I replied, knowing what would come next but somehow unable to hold back.

Her yell hit the room, shattering the calm I’d been clinging to. I clenched my jaw, wondering how long I’d have to endure this routine. “Is this going to be every morning now? Because I don’t think I signed up for a daily lecture on my failings, Ms. Victoria.”

“Until you send your accountant over. Your mother is about to be screwed, you idiot!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, exasperated. “You hired an accountant earlier this year. You remember that, right?”

“Yes, and he’s taking advantage of my ignorance,” she snapped, her voice indignant, as if that justified calling me before the day had even started.

“Your ignorance of your own finances?” I asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“Stop questioning me and send a trusted accountant!” Her demand echoed around my room, filling every inch with its bite.

I sighed. “I can’t. Everyone I know is busy. This isn’t something I can just fix for you.” My voice was quieter now, my patience thinning by the second. “You’re capable of sorting this out yourself.”

“What? Because I asked you to visit my alumni? That was for your glory too!”

“Please, can you spare me the dramatics? Not this morning, Ms. Victoria.”

Her sharp inhale was followed by a livid, “Mom, you idiot! It’s Mom to you!”

That word hit me in a place I’d long thought numb. Mom? Since when did she ever feel like that to me? Since when had “Mom” meant late-night/early morning phone calls full of resentment, words laced with guilt and accusation? Serial abandonment over the course of 30 years, I couldn’t remember a time when it had.

I stood up, my patience finally gone, and walked toward the bathroom. I didn’t bother to take the phone with me. Let her scream into the silence. As I shut the door, her muffled voice turned into little more than a dull noise, and I let out a dry, humorless chuckle.

Mom. That was a word for other people, for lives where you weren’t born into competition, into a space where you had to fend for yourself the moment you could walk. 

I wish i could cut her loose from the obligation of her yearly visits—the grand “motherly” gestures that only ever lasted a week. Looking back, I can hardly believe I used to cry just to have her show up at my father’s house, playing the role of the perfect mother for seven days before vanishing again. Rumor had it she only came around to squeeze money out of him, not because she wanted to see me. Yet somehow, she always kept her hooks in me.

I turned on the shower, letting the hot water stream over me, easing the dull throb in my head that had started the moment Ms. Victoria’s voice ripped me from sleep. A constant ache, just like her. I turned the shower off and reached for a towel, feeling slightly revived, but my senses sharpened when I heard another voice coming from my room. This wasn’t Rose, my longtime housekeeper. This voice was softer, unfamiliar.

Tying the towel around my waist, I opened the bathroom door slowly. A young woman was kneeling in front of my bedside table, one hand clutching a vacuum cleaner. Her shoulders were tense, and her face was turned toward my phone as Ms. Victoria’s voice screamed from it.

“He’s really not in. I can report back to him if you will tell me what you want,” she was saying, her voice shaky but polite.

“Is he ignoring me? Where on earth would he be? It’s seven in the morning! I am his mother!” My mother’s harsh voice barked from the phone, and the poor girl flinched, tilting her head as though baffled by the hostility. A chuckle slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

“I—I’m sorry to hear that, but he really isn’t here,” the girl replied, her tone growing steadier. “I promise he’s not the type to ignore calls, let alone one from his mother.”

“Then call him out!”

She hesitated, cheeks pink. “I don’t know where he is, but if you give me a few minutes, I can—”

“Did he sleep with you? You’re awfully defensive of him.”

The girl jolted back, her face coloring to a deep red. “No! I—I’m just his employee. I only—”

“An employee? And you’re in his bedroom right now?” My mother’s accusations grew sharper. “Disgraceful! Where is Rose!”

The girl’s back stiffened. “I’m not dating him, ma’am! I am Nelly, the new housekeeper here” she shot back, her face now a mixture of embarrassment and defiance.

“How dare you!” Ms. Victoria snapped. “How dare you even touch his phone!”

“I didn’t touch it!” She pointed toward the phone as if my mother could see her proving her innocence, her eyes wide with frustration.

I sighed, watching them from the doorway. This poor girl was fighting a losing battle with Ms. Victoria, and from her increasingly rattled look, she had no idea what she’d wandered into. Time to put her out of her misery.

Walking forward, I cleared my throat, and the girl—Nelly, I remembered her name now—nearly jumped out of her skin as she noticed me.

“We’ll talk later,” I said, grabbing my phone and cutting off my mother’s rant mid-sentence. The silence was almost luxurious. I looked over at Nelly, who took a couple of cautious steps back, her gaze flitting from me to the vacuum cleaner as if reminding herself why she was in here in the first place.

“You see, sir, I was just vacuuming, and I started hearing these voices,” she explained hurriedly, twisting her hands nervously. “Apparently, your mother was on the phone, and since you’d ignored her call, she just kept yelling, so I thought—well, I thought I’d try to calm her down.”

I raised an eyebrow, watching her. Nelly’s attempt at calm was unraveling by the second, though she was trying hard to hide it.

“And what exactly did Rose tell you?” I asked, trying to look serious as if i wasn't amused and impressed at toggling with my mother just now.

Nelly looked taken aback, but she quickly recovered. “What do you mean?” she replied, almost curtly. Then, she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Oh, you mean the rule?”

“Yes. The rule. What was it?”

“Act invisible?” she replied, her voice so small and so resigned that I almost laughed.

“Exactly,” I said, leaning against the wall,  “Which means don’t be caught in here again.”

For a moment, she just stood there, nodding slowly, a sheepish but determined look in her eyes, as if trying to commit the rule to memory. But I caught a flicker of something else, too—a spark in her expression that made it clear she wasn’t used to shrinking into the background.

She looked up and stared at me hard, enough to communicate her disapproval of my words but also soft enough to seem not to piss me off. She then turned away slowly and left the room, shutting my door a little harder than i expect. 

Just then, my phone rang again. Typical. My phone never knew how to stay quiet. Liam Kensington's name flashed across the screen, bold and obnoxious as ever. I groaned, already dreading the conversation, before reluctantly picking it up.

“What’s up, brother?” Liam’s voice came through, crackling with bad reception. Of course, it did. Even the network seemed to conspire with him to irritate me. That voice—smug and self-assured—was capable of causing chaos in any situation. Even static couldn’t drown out its menace.

“Hello,” I replied flatly, making no effort to sound interested. He needed to know he wasn’t exactly welcome today—or any day, really. But somehow, luck seemed to favor him this time.

“First off,” Liam began, his tone already grating, “you’ve rebelled enough. Five years, man. It’s time to move back to civilization. You can’t keep hiding out in that godforsaken desert where no one can even reach you. Seriously, there’s no damn signal out there.”

Classic Liam—lecturing me like he was anyone’s authority. His words were peppered with his usual cussing, his favorite language, and zero tact. It’s no wonder no one ever takes him seriously. Of course, his sheer incompetence is the real deal-breaker.

Just days ago, I’d seen reports about the Kensington Group's latest troubles. Another disaster waiting to happen, thanks to Liam and his brilliant management skills. If they kept running the company as a family business, like always, it wouldn’t survive the year. Grandpa must be rolling in his grave watching his empire crash like this. His hard work was being swept away month by month, tsunami-style.

And if it weren’t for Grandma—Victoria Senior, as I call her—the family would’ve imploded ages ago. She’s the glue holding it all together, though the cracks are starting to show. Charles, my father, doesn’t help matters. He’s off gallivanting around the globe with his twenty-eight-year-old wife and their two toddlers. Every time I think of him, I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Charles has always been the family’s prime lost cause. Grandma coddled him so much he never learned to stand on his own. The moment he got a taste of freedom, he went completely off the rails—fathering Liam out of wedlock, then having more sons with a stripper who, as the story goes, also had a fling with Grandpa before he passed.

Then came my mother, Victoria—Grandma’s attempt at salvaging him. She arranged their marriage, thinking my mother’s steadiness would ground him. They shared the same name, after all, and my mother came from a respectable family. Grandma probably saw her as someone like herself—a woman who could hold it all together and steer a man back on course.

Sike. My mother was no saint. She was the poster child for a spoiled brat who got her first taste of freedom and ran with it—completely unqualified to deal with anyone else’s past mistakes, let alone their present ones. She and my father lasted a grand total of four years before she bailed, leaving me behind with people I’d convinced myself I was lucky not to resemble: Liam and Derrick.

Still, I had it better than most. At least my mother wasn’t paid—or too stubborn to be paid—to leave me behind. She’d show up once a year for seven straight days and play the role of “Mom” to perfection. It became a routine I clung to as a kid. I’d write out all my worries and save them for those seven days, when she magically became the mother I needed.

That all changed when I grew up. Suddenly, her visits weren’t about me anymore. She wanted favors—things I couldn’t bring myself to care about. Make public appearances with her. Meet my five half-siblings I’d never heard of. Pay for this, cover that. The dynamic had flipped, and I wasn’t eager to play along.

“So,” I replied to Liam’s latest intrusion, calm and unimpressed, “why are you calling me?”

“You need to come home this weekend,” he said, his tone as pompous as ever. “Grandmother has something to discuss with the entire family.”

“She could’ve called me herself.”

“Ah, so your pride still exists.”

“I’m busy this morning, Liam.”

“I run an entire group. I’m pretty sure I’ve got it harder than you ever have,” he shot back.

I couldn’t help but scoff. “Everyone knows you have no idea what you’re doing, Liam.”

“I’ll let that slide. For now. But I need to see you before Grandmother’s meeting.”

“Let me guess: so I can reject another subsidiary she tries to dump on me? It’s practically a family tradition at this point. Are you finally scared I’ll take her up on it?”

“You’re skating dangerously close to my last nerve,” he warned.

“Oh no,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’ll tread lightly since you’re so powerful now.”

He let out a sharp breath. “I really can’t deal with your stupidity today. I’m visiting you tomorrow.”

“I’m—”

“And I don’t care. Also, hide your alcohol. I’m bringing Derrick.”

With that, he hung up.

I stared at my phone for a second before tossing it aside and heading out of my room. But something made me pause in the hallway. Why now? Why would Liam and Derrick want to see me?

After all, I’d been explicitly told—by them, no less—to stay as far away from the Kensington Group as possible. My involvement with it was considered taboo. And now, suddenly, they wanted a visit?

It was suspicious. And oddly amusing.

Somewhere deep inside, it stirred something I hadn’t felt in a while—a mix of annoyance and intrigue. It had been far too long since someone truly pissed me off.

And I had a sinking feeling they were about to change that.

I headed down the stairs, my steps light but my thoughts heavier than I cared to admit. As I reached the base, the front door opened, and Jack appeared, his usual calm demeanor intact. Before I could greet him, a flash of chaotic movement caught my eye—a shrill sound and a blur of not-so-coordinated action.

Nelly, the new housekeeper, was “running” toward the kitchen. Well, running might’ve been too generous a word. She was bouncing on her feet in a way that screamed effort but lacked speed. The oversized laundry basket she lugged—easily half her size—seemed to be the culprit. She muttered something under her breath as she shuffled along, her eyes darting briefly toward Jack and me before snapping back to the kitchen like she hadn’t seen us at all.

I squinted, watching her struggle through the doorway. Jack chuckled quietly beside me. I wonder how she’d managed to win Rose’s approval. She looked woefully unqualified for the job.

“Rose must be getting old,” I muttered.

“Huh?” Jack said, caught off guard.

“Never mind,” I replied, brushing past him.

“She must’ve been desperate,” I added silently to myself.

Before I could leave the entryway, Jack cleared his throat and straightened his posture, the telltale sign he had something to report.

“Your brother Liam mentioned he booked an appointment with you,” he said hesitantly.

“He did.”

I didn’t even turn to look at him, but I could feel his surprise at my reply.

“Okay, sir,” Jack said, the uncertainty in his voice amusing me.

“Oh, and Eva is on her way,” he added.

I stopped mid-step. “I don’t need her to be here.”

“She was adamant,” he explained, his tone cautious. “She heard it was your free day. Said you both agreed.”

I gave a slight nod, signaling I’d heard enough. Jack continued rattling off updates as Rose appeared, her sharp voice immediately pulling him into a conversation. Using their chatter as cover, I slipped away and headed to the kitchen.

The sound of voices grew clearer as I stepped inside. Two distinct tones filled the space: Melissa, with her signature high-pitched commentary, and someone else—ah, of course, Nelly. That woman was everywhere lately, including the middle of every work-related gossip session, it seemed.

I moved toward the fridge, keeping my movements casual, but their conversation became impossible to ignore as I reached the center of the kitchen.

“I don’t know the full story,” Melissa was saying, her voice dripping with intrigue, “but Eva’s the kind of woman you need to watch out for. She has some serious sway.”

“I’m telling you, she gives me witch vibes,” Nelly shot back. “At first, I thought she was iconic—blonde hair, the whole thing—but the way she stared at me? I felt it in my gut. She’s trouble.”

“She’s probably just insecure about having a younger woman in the house,” Melissa countered. “Let’s face it, we don’t see many around here. Even Miss Rose doesn’t let younger hires stick around long.”

“Why not?” Nelly asked.

“Something about what’s best for the boss.”

“Oh, please,” Nelly scoffed. “I hope someone knocks Eva off her throne. Honestly, I don’t think Aiden’s even into her. She’s just forcing it.”

“There are rumors,” Melissa said in a conspiratorial tone.

“Like what?”

“You know, this and that”

“Well, I saw Jack handing her some kind of contract. Looked like an NDA.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. My interest piqued, I inched closer to the door, leaning just enough to catch more of their hushed conversation.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Mellisa said knowingly. “I heard every woman who comes around signs one. Even the ones who only stay for a night.”

“Goddamn,” Nelly exclaimed. “He’s that guy.”

Their voices were growing louder now, signaling they were about to walk in.

“I guess you could say that.”

“So… he and Eva aren’t exclusive?”

“Nah.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, as if testing the words before committing to them. “And he’s… very impressive.”

The kitchen door creaked open, and Nelly froze in her tracks the instant her eyes landed on me. Melissa, standing just behind her, looked mortified for a split second before recovering with a sharp inhale. Without a word, she darted back out the way they’d come, leaving Nelly alone with me.

“How impressive am I, though?” I asked, leaning lazily against the counter, letting the words settle between us.

Her eyes widened as a deep blush spread across her face, staining her cheeks with a color that betrayed every thought she was desperately trying to hide. Her hair was slightly tousled, a perfect mess that only made her look more undone, as though I’d just walked in on the aftermath of something sinful.

She fumbled, reaching up to smooth her hair as though that would reset the moment. “That wasn’t about you,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush. “The NDA—it’s for someone back home. He has, um, a friend. Named Jack. That’s who I meant.”

I tilted my head, a slow smirk spreading across my face. “I didn’t even say I overheard that.”

Her eyes fluttered closed for a beat, as if she could will away her embarrassment. When she reopened them, they held a mix of apology and defiance that made her seem… different. Every time I saw her, she revealed another layer of herself—layers I hadn’t decided whether to peel back or leave untouched.

“I didn’t mean to sound insulting,” she rushed on, her tone softening. “I just… thought someone like you—you know, popular—might use that to your advantage.”

My brow arched at her assumption, and her face turned even redder as she backtracked, her desperation to explain only making her more transparent.

I stepped closer. Just a little at first. Her pupils dilated as I neared, and the quick flutter of her lashes betrayed how nervous she really was. Up close, I noticed the way her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, the faint glisten on her lips as she licked them nervously.

She wasn’t just flustered—she was trapped in the moment.

I let my gaze drift briefly to the soft curve of her collarbone, then lower. Just for a second. Her figure was undeniable, but it was the way her body seemed to react, almost instinctively, that intrigued me. My eyes snapped back to hers, catching the way she was staring anywhere but at me.

She licked her lips again, and for the briefest moment, I allowed myself to imagine pulling her close, the feel of her breath against mine. The thought lingered, hotter than I expected. Then I dismissed it with a quiet chuckle, breaking the tension in my own mind before it took hold.

“Look at me,” I said, my voice calm but firm.

She hesitated. “It’ll hurt my neck if I do with you standing that close,” she blurted, her honesty so unexpected it nearly pulled a laugh from me.

Trouble. That’s what Nelly was. The kind of trouble that walked right into your space and made everything a little harder to ignore.

I bent slightly, bringing my face closer to hers, until her eyes finally locked on mine. For a moment, something flickered there—hesitation, boldness, maybe both. She tried to glare, but it wasn’t convincing enough to stop the smirk that spread across my lips.

“Nelly,” I murmured, my tone dropping just enough to make the air between us shift. “If you keep doing all this, I might just have to show you how impressive I really am.”