Lily's POV
Days blurred together in the mansion.
Lily couldn't tell if it had been three days or seven. Time moved differently here. The light came from everywhere and nowhere. The rooms looked the same. The staff moved silently. It was like living inside a photograph instead of a real place.
Sophie adapted faster than Lily.
By day three, Sophie was running through hallways looking for Ethan. By day four, she was sitting next to him at breakfast like she'd been doing it her whole life. By day five, she was falling asleep on his lap watching movies about princesses and magic.
Lily watched her daughter come alive in ways she'd never seen before.
In their apartment, Sophie had been quiet. Careful. She'd played with the same three toys and asked permission before she touched things. She'd known there wasn't much space and had made herself smaller to fit.
Here, Sophie had space. She had attention. She had a father who looked at her like she'd hung the moon and stars.
It terrified Lily.
Because watching Sophie blossom was supposed to make her happy. It was supposed to feel like she'd made the right choice by signing that contract. But instead it made her chest tight. It made her angry. It made her realize how much she'd been failing her daughter all these years.
Lily hated how happy Sophie was. Which meant Lily hated herself a little.
She was standing in the kitchen on the seventh day, pretending to work on her laptop, when Sophie came running in with a fever that came out of nowhere.
One moment her daughter was fine. The next moment she was hot and complaining that her head hurt and asking for her mommy in a voice that broke Lily's heart.
"Baby, baby, it's okay," Lily said, scooping Sophie up. She carried her to the couch and started pulling off her clothes. "Mommy's here. You're going to be fine."
But Sophie felt wrong. Her small body was burning. Her skin was too hot. Her breathing was shallow and scared.
Lily panicked. Actually panicked. She couldn't remember what she was supposed to do. Cool water or warm water. Medicine or no medicine. Hospital or home care. All the things she'd known the first time Sophie got sick had disappeared from her brain.
She was holding her daughter and shaking and trying not to cry when a shadow appeared in the doorway.
Ethan.
He took in the situation in one second. Sophie burning up in Lily's arms. Lily's terrified face. The fever that was high enough to be dangerous.
Without hesitation, he took over.
"Get me cool water and clean cloths," he said to Margaret, who appeared like magic. "And call Dr. Patterson. Tell him it's an emergency."
He gently took Sophie from Lily's arms. His movements were careful. Confident. Like he knew exactly what to do.
"You're okay, baby," he said to Sophie. His voice was calm even though his eyes were worried. "We're going to make you feel better."
He laid Sophie down on the couch and started removing her clothes with practiced efficiency. Not rough. Gentle. Like he'd done this before, which was impossible because this was the first time Sophie had been sick since he'd known her.
Margaret brought water and cloths. Ethan started placing them on Sophie's forehead, her neck, her wrists. Places where the blood vessels were close to the surface. Places where the cool water could bring down her temperature.
"What's her temperature," he asked Lily.
"I don't know. I didn't check. I was so scared I just—"
"Get the thermometer. It's in the bathroom cabinet in Sophie's room."
Lily ran. She found it and came back and Ethan took Sophie's temperature. 103.2. High enough to be scary but not high enough to be life-threatening if they treated it right.
"She's going to be fine," Ethan said quietly. And Lily believed him because he sounded like he knew.
The doctor arrived within twenty minutes. He examined Sophie, confirmed it was a virus, prescribed fluids and rest and monitoring. Nothing serious. Just something her body needed to fight.
But Ethan didn't leave Sophie's side.
He sat beside her all night. When she whimpered, he whispered to her about stars and constellations. About the Big Dipper and Orion's Belt. About how the stars had been watching over people for thousands of years and now they were watching over her.
His voice was soft and certain and it calmed Sophie down in a way that Lily's panic couldn't.
At three in the morning, Lily found them asleep.
Sophie was curled against Ethan's chest. Her small body was still warm but no longer burning. His arm was wrapped around her, protecting her, holding her like she was the most precious thing in his world.
He looked younger when he slept. Less hard. Less like a man who owned everything. More like a father who would burn the world down to keep his daughter safe.
Lily watched them from the chair and felt something crack open in her chest.
She wasn't protecting Sophie from Ethan anymore.
She'd stopped protecting her daughter from him the moment she watched him take charge. The moment she heard him whispering about stars. The moment she realized that he loved Sophie in a way that was pure and uncomplicated and real.
Now Lily was protecting something else. Something more dangerous.
She was protecting her own heart.
Because if she let herself fall for him, if she let herself believe that this could work, she was going to get hurt. Men like Ethan didn't stay. They conquered and then they moved on. They possessed and then they got bored.
He would leave. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not for months. But eventually, he would remember that he had an empire to run and a woman wasn't worth the time investment.
And then she would be alone again. Except this time, Sophie would know the difference. This time, Sophie would be the one left behind.
So Lily sat in the darkness and watched the man she was trying not to love sleep with the daughter she'd do anything for and made a decision.
She couldn't let this happen. She couldn't let Sophie get any more attached. She couldn't let herself feel anything.
She had to protect her heart by building walls higher than the ones around his penthouse.
Because loving Ethan Blackwell was the fastest way to destroy herself.