The sharp crack of heels against stone.

The laughter died instantly.

The boys stiffened.

Maya stood up, her whole posture changing—like a light being switched off.

Victoria appeared on the terrace.

Elegant. Immaculate.

Cold.

“What is this?” she snapped, voice cutting through the air. “I pay you to work, not to play pretend mother.”

She stormed down the steps, grabbing Noah’s arm too hard.

“Look at you! Filthy! Ethan could be home any second—”

“Please, ma’am,” Maya said softly, stepping forward. “They were just playing. I’ll clean them—”

Victoria shoved her.

“Don’t tell me how to handle them.”

The boys shrank behind Maya.

Ethan felt something inside him shift.

Not anger.

Not yet.

Something colder.

Clearer.

He stepped out.

“Victoria.”

Her reaction was immediate.

The fury vanished. The tension dissolved.

In its place—perfection.

“Ethan!” she gasped, rushing toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re back! I thought you were flying already!”

He forced a smile.

“Meeting got delayed,” he said. “Thought I’d come home for a few hours.”

Her grip tightened, almost possessive.

Behind her, the boys didn’t move.

Maya didn’t speak.

Ethan noticed everything.

“Everything okay here?” he asked lightly.