"Definitely a babysitter," a young woman sitting beside an older one says dismissively, her tone dripping with judgment.
The rest of the family nods along in agreement, their attention sliding away from Riley as if he has already been categorized and dismissed.
Their eyes drift back to their previous conversation, their interest in him fading just as quickly as it had flared.
But the older man in the room still seems to be looking at him. He leans forward, his eyes narrowing as he fixes them directly on Riley. His voice carries an edge that makes Riley's shoulders tighten.
"Why would they have a male babysitter?" His tone is sharper than curiosity alone, suspicion coiling tightly around every word. "Is it Henry specifically who brought you here?"
The directness of the question startles Riley. Why would he ask such a thing?!
His pulse stutters, and before he can even think about crafting a careful answer, the words tumble out of his mouth.
"No, I was the one who came here to ask for the job first," he says. He isn't even sure why he chose to answer that way.
It just slipped out, instinct taking over before logic could catch up. Maybe deep down he sensed that if he admitted Henry had been the one to bring him here, it would mean something different to this man, maybe something wrong.
"Is that so?" the older man asks, his sharp gaze lingering on Riley. For a moment, Riley thinks he catches something unexpected in the man's voice, relief.
It's faint, but it's there, tucked beneath the suspicion.
This family,... Riley thinks, they really do have some issues. You could own the world, every piece of it polished and shining at your feet, and still lack peace, even in its simplest form. Money doesn't protect anyone from that.
Skye shifts in Riley's arms. As if bored with the adults and their interrogation, the boy wiggles free and slides down to the floor.
The moment his feet touch the ground, he takes Riley's hand firmly in his tiny one and tugs with determined strength.
"Where are you taking me?" Riley whispers, his voice low, trying not to draw more attention.
But Skye doesn't answer. He just keeps pulling him, his little hand locked tight around Riley's fingers, guiding him with single-minded focus toward a destination Riley can't guess.
They pass the grand staircase, though Skye doesn't lead him up its sweeping steps. Instead, he takes him deeper into the hallway.
The noise of laughter and conversation fades behind them, swallowed by the silence of this part of the house. Riley's steps echo softly on the polished floor as Skye leads him forward.
But then they near a door where voices filter out, muffled at first, but clear enough as they draw closer.
He can't mistake the sound of one of them... Henry's. The familiarity of it strikes Riley hard, making his chest constrict as if reacting against his will.
"So many times I repeated to you about what this is," Henry's voice cuts sharply through the quiet. "And all of a sudden you can't just start from nowhere and demand something real out of it."
The words stop Riley in his track before knowing it. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop; it's the last thing he should be doing here. He knows this. But he can't make himself move.
He looks down at Skye.
Riley almost curses himself, almost wants to slap some sense into his own chest for standing there frozen.
But instead of moving, he leans down, his voice a hurried whisper. "I wanna speak to your dad, so I'll wait for him here to come out. How about you keep going, and I'll follow you right after?"
"I'll wait… with you," Skye whispers back, his hushed too, matching Riley's.
Riley swallows, then instinctively covers Skye's ears, shielding him from hearing any of it.
From behind the door, Victoria's voice rings out, sharp and insistent. "Why, Henry? Give one strong reason why we can't have a real thing which your family already assumes this is! We have a beautiful family.. you, me, and our son. So why can't we make it real? We are only hurting our son with this push and pull."
And now she cares about their son?! The words spin in Riley's mind. And... what does she mean by real thing?! Did that mean their marriage wasn't real? Or did it mean something else entirely? He can't pin it down, can't make sense of it,
Henry's voice breaks through his thoughts. "Every time my family comes over, you're always insisting about this. Does it have anything to do with them?!" His frustration is sharp, the rhythm of his words quickening.
"No," Victoria says. "And you still haven't given me the reason why you don't want to make our relationship real. Henry, I know I agreed to this fake thing at first, but along the way I actually fell in love with you. And I really want you... no one else now. So can we please be the husband and wife we should be? Please… and if you really don't want that, then we should just tell your family the truth, tha..."
An unconscious scoff escapes Riley before he realizes it. The sound startles even him, his own reaction catching him off guard.
Inside the room, Henry's voice rises, cutting Victoria off. "Tell my family what?" he snaps. "Pick out your words before letting them out." His tone is harsher now, frustration wrapped with the edge of warning. Then silence, only for a beat, before Henry adds, "You know what? You're right. There's no reason why we can't make this real. So consider our marriage real from now on."
The last words hit Riley like a blow to the chest. They slam into him harder than any of the rest, each syllable heavy and unshakable. His breath stumbles.
Okay. This reaction is so stupid, he tells himself, turning around with the intent to walk away. But before he can take a single step, the door suddenly swings open
Riley freezes, caught. His eyes meet Henry's directly.
For a moment, they seem frozen. The air between them thickens, charged with something invisible. Riley can't breathe, can't even think. Neither of them moves, caught in the grip of a stare that feels heavier than words.
"Skye..." Riley blurts, "...he was leading me toward this direction, and I have no idea where we were going," his words tumble out fast and uneven. He hears the nervous quiver in his own voice, hates it, but can't stop. "But resisting wasn't an option at all because… it was an order." He tries to make it sound like a joke to lessen the air.
"He must be taking you to his room,"Henry says, "You are finally here. I thought you chickened out after giving me a firm confirmation last night."
"No. I wa..." Riley begins, but his words break off as Victoria steps into view, her presence sharp as a blade.
"What is he doing here again?" she demands, her tone clipped.
"Skye seems to like him, so he'll be spending time with him," Henry answers without even sparing her a glance. His eyes remain fixed on Riley.
"Oh?" Victoria says, her voice unreadable, neither acceptance nor rejection, just a note hanging in the air.
Henry ignores it. His full attention stays locked on Riley. "You can let Skye show you around. I'll just finish with my guests, and then we can talk about what we haven't talked about," he says evenly.
"Sure," Riley replies, though his heart is hammering so loudly he's certain they must hear it. He doesn't understand why it won't calm, why being here, standing under Henry's gaze, shakes him in ways he can't control.
With that, Henry turns away, disappearing through the hallway.