The silence in the wake of Leo's observation was fragile, a soap bubble trembling on the edge of popping. Lysander remained frozen just inside the doorway, a mountain of a man rendered motionless by a five-year-old's astute comment.
The wonder in his eyes was quickly being shuttered away, replaced by a panicked uncertainty Evie recognized all too well. He knew how to negotiate a billion-dollar merger, but he had no script for this.
It was Luna who shattered the tension, her initial fear overcome by an irrepressible need for confirmation. She pointed a small, accusatory finger at him.
"You're not a drawing," she declared.
The bizarre statement seemed to knock Lysander further off-balance. "A… drawing?"
"Luna draws pictures of you," Evie explained softly, her arm still wrapped protectively around her daughter. "She calls you her dream daddy."
Lysander's gaze swung to Luna, and the raw, unguarded emotion was back, this time mixed with a painful confusion. He looked like a man being shown a ghost. "You… you draw me?"
Luna nodded, suddenly shy, and buried her face in Evie's side again.
The standoff was broken by Maya emerging cautiously from the kitchen, her eyes wide as she took in the scene the billionaire looking utterly lost in their tiny living room.
"I, uh… I made lemonade," she offered, holding a tray with a pitcher and four mismatched glasses.
It was the most normal thing in the world, a simple, domestic offering that highlighted the surrealism of the moment. Sebastian, still by the door, gave a nearly imperceptible nod, as if approving the non-threatening nature of the beverage.
"Thank you, Maya," Evie said, her voice a little stronger. She needed to take control before the situation spiraled. "Lysander, would you like to sit down?"
It was a command disguised as a question. He seemed to grasp onto it, the social convention providing a lifeline.
He moved stiffly, lowering his large frame into the worn armchair opposite the sofa. He looked absurdly large and out of place, like a panther trying to curl up in a pet bed.
Maya poured the lemonade with trembling hands, passing a glass to Evie, then setting one on the coffee table near Lysander. He stared at it as if it were a complex chemical compound.
An awkward silence descended. Leo was studying his father with a scientist's intensity. Luna was peeking at him from the safety of Evie's arm.
Lysander cleared his throat, the sound unnaturally loud. He looked directly at Leo. "Your mother says you… enjoy building things."
Leo considered this, then nodded once. "I built a bridge with my blocks. It held twelve cars."
"Twelve," Lysander repeated, a flicker of genuine interest in his eyes.
"That is a significant load-bearing capacity for a block bridge. Did you use a truss design?"
Leo's eyes widened slightly. He didn't know the word 'truss,' but he understood the question was serious.
He slid off the couch, went to a basket in the corner, and retrieved a complex, multi-level structure made of wooden blocks. He carried it carefully and placed it on the coffee table between them.
"It's like this," he said, pointing to the crisscrossing patterns.
Lysander leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and examined the bridge as if it were a set of architectural blueprints. "I see.
The triangulation provides stability." He pointed to a specific section. "This is the strongest part."
A tiny, rare smile touched Leo's lips. "Yes."
It was a connection. Small, fragile, but real. Evie felt a lump form in her throat.
Emboldened by her brother, Luna wriggled free. She approached Lysander with less caution, her head tilted. "Do you have a castle?"
Lysander looked up from the bridge, thrown by the non-sequitur. "A castle?"
"Mommy said you were in a tall building with lots of lights. Like a castle."
He glanced at Evie, a silent question in his eyes. She gave a slight, helpless shrug.
"I… have an apartment," he said, choosing his words with care. "It is tall. And it has many lights. But it is not a castle."
"Does it have a drawbridge?" Luna pressed.
"No. It has a… very fast elevator."
Luna seemed to find this an acceptable alternative. She moved closer, her curiosity overpowering her fear.
She was now standing right beside his knee, staring up at him. "Your watch is shiny."
It was a simple, platinum Patek Philippe, worth more than Evie's cottage. Lysander looked down at his wrist, then back at the small, hopeful face gazing up at him. Slowly, hesitantly, as if handling a live explosive, he unclasped it.
"You can look," he said, his voice unusually gentle.
Luna took it with reverent hands, her small fingers tracing the face. "It's heavy."
"It's complicated," he replied, his gaze fixed on her, mesmerized.
It was happening. The impossible was happening. They were interacting. The world hadn't ended. Evie allowed herself a sliver of hope.
And then Lysander ruined it.
He looked from Luna, holding his watch, to Leo, standing guard by his bridge, and then his eyes met Evie's. The wonder in them had been replaced by a resolute, chilling practicality.
"They can't stay here," he said, the words flat and final.
The sliver of hope shattered into a million pieces.
"What?" Evie breathed.
"This house is not secure. The town is not secure. I've seen the preliminary reports. The press will be here by nightfall."
His voice was all CEO again, the brief moment of connection severed. "I'm having a property on the private side of the island prepared.
It's gated, with full security. You and the children will relocate there immediately. Today."
The room went cold. Maya gasped. Leo's small face closed off, his shoulders hunching. Luna, sensing the shift, clutched the watch to her chest and retreated back to Evie's side.
"Relocate?" Evie's voice was dangerously quiet. "You want to move us from our home? The day you meet them?"
"It's for their safety," he insisted, his tone leaving no room for debate.
"Their safety?" she shot back, rising to her feet, her fear morphing into blazing fury. "Or your convenience? So you can better control the situation? Tuck us away in another gilded cage?"
"Evelyn, be rational."
"Rational? You're asking me to rip my children out of their home, away from everything they know and love, because you've decided it's not good enough! This is their home! This is their life!"
She was shaking, tears of rage and betrayal streaming down her face. She saw the confusion and fear in her children's eyes, and it fueled her fire.
He was doing exactly what she had feared disrupting, destroying, controlling.
Lysander stood, his own frustration evident. "I am trying to protect what is mine!"