Adrien's POV
The school bell rang.
Finally.
I shoved my books into my bag, already dreading the walk out—kids staring, teachers still treating me like glass, and the usual parents clustered outside in their dusty cars, honking like that would help.
But today… was different.
Today, the world stopped.
Heads turned. People stood up on their toes. Even Mr. Nanda, the ever-bored security guard, straightened.
And that's when I saw it.
A midnight-black Bentley.
It rolled to a stop like it owned the road. Matte finish. Murdered-out rims. Tinted windows that didn't show a soul inside. Silent, smooth, terrifying.
And then—click.
The back door eased open.
First came the heel. Glossy black, red-soled. Then the leg. Then her.
Ava Langford, my mother.
Correction: Ava freaking Langford, international fashion tycoon, lover of all things dramatic, and a menace to personal space if you happened to be her child.
She was dressed in a rich caramel trench coat over a wine-red silk jumpsuit, sunglasses larger than necessary, her glossy curls bouncing with every step. Her handbag was probably worth someone's mortgage.
And she was clinging—no, escorted—by him.
Alex Carter, my dad. Black-on-black suit, no tie, tailored within an inch of its life. He looked like the man you'd send into court if you wanted the other side to start crying before the trial even began. His hand rested at the small of her back like he didn't plan on ever letting go again.
They looked like royalty.
People whispered. Some pointed.
But I barely had time to process it, because the next second—
She saw me.
And her whole face changed.
"A—" Alex started to say something, but she'd already let go of his hand like he didn't exist.
"Aadriennnnnnn!!"
Oh no.
Oh no.
She sprinted across the courtyard in her heels—in her freaking heels—and launched herself at me like we were in a movie.
I barely managed to catch her before I was buried in a storm of vanilla-perfume-scented silk, lipstick kisses, and a hundred questions per minute.
"Was your lunch okay?! Did you eat all your grapes? Tell me the truth, did anyone say anything mean to you? Wait, wait, how was your maths test? Did you remember to drink water, baby? You look tired. Are you tired? Should I call the school and complain?!"
"M-Mom—"
"Don't 'Mom' me, I missed you! I only let you go today because Alex said I was being dramatic, but honestly I should've just shown up during recess—"
"Mama, you're squeezing me too hard—"
She was holding me like she'd been waiting to breathe for a year. Her lips kissed the side of my face, my temple, my cheek again, then she smoothed my hair, even though it didn't need smoothing.
"Still my handsome baby," she murmured.
Some kid passed us and whispered, "Dude, your mom's a whole Bollywood movie."
He wasn't wrong.
And then, behind her—finally catching up—Dad appeared.
Arms folded. Amused. Protective. Still terrifying.
His gaze swept the courtyard like a hawk on a leash. I saw at least two teachers instinctively lower their heads.
Then, as Mom fussed over my shoelace like it was the fate of the nation, Dad leaned down, brushing my shoulder with his.
"You good, soldier?" he asked quietly.
I nodded.
His hand gave mine a squeeze.
"Let's go home."