Chapter 7
On the carriage ride home, Mallory leaned into my arms and whispered, "Mom, why did the King's Tutor keep looking at us?
"He looked at you so sadly."
I hugged Mallory tighter.
Sad?
Andy, do you even know what sadness feels like?
Did you ever realize, on that snowy night five years ago when I left all alone, the despair and sorrow in my heart were a thousand times—no, a million times—deeper than anything you could ever imagine.
I barely slept a wink that night.
Just as dawn was breaking, the butler came to report that carriages from the King's Tutor's residence had parked outside our gate.
Leading the group was Andy's right-hand man, Darell Griffith.
He brought over a dozen carriages packed with gifts—from luxurious writing sets and rare ancient books to delicate toys for children. The street outside our house was almost completely blocked off.
Darell stood respectfully outside the gate, presenting a visiting card. He said the King's Tutor wanted to meet the prodigy and test his knowledge.
I told the butler to refuse him outright.
"Let him know Ms. Chasey says the child is still young and was frightened yesterday, so he's not up for visitors today. As for taking a teacher, we'll talk about it when his father returns," I instructed.
I wanted him to understand that I was Sapphire Chasey, and I was not someone he could just summon whenever he wanted.
And my son wasn't someone he could simply claim as his student on a whim, either.
The butler left to carry out my orders.
Before long, Darell took his convoy and left.
But every single gift was left behind, piled up at our doorstep.
Word spread fast—everyone in the Capital knew.
The all-powerful King's Tutor, Andy, was practically begging to take the son of a Southbank businesswoman as his apprentice, but got shut out at the door.
I stood at the second-floor window, watching the servants haul the gifts into the storeroom, trip after trip, my face showing no emotion.
Andy, do you really think showering me with gifts can make up for the past?
Do you honestly believe making such a show will win me back?
That's just wishful thinking.
I'm no longer that lonely girl you used to control five years ago.
Mallory pushed the door open, holding a wooden puzzle in his hand.
"Mom, did the sir at the gate give us all these gifts?" he asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Can I play with them?" he asked.
"Of course, they're all yours," I said.
He started playing with the puzzle, and before long, he'd already figured out the first layer.
He looked up at me and suddenly asked, "Mom, when is my dad, the one you said is your husband, coming home?"
My heart felt like it was stabbed.
For five years, I never told Mallory a thing about his dad.
I just said his father was working somewhere far away, and once he made enough money, he'd come back to see us.
It was a pretty little lie I made up for him.
But now, with Andy showing up, that lie was falling apart.
I brushed his hair and reassured him gently, "It won't be long now. Once Mom's business in the Capital is done, we'll go find him."
"Really?" Mallory's eyes lit up.
"Really," I said.
I won't let my son be a kid without a dad.
And I sure as hell won't let him call the wrong man "Dad."
Andy, now that you're back, don't blame me for making the most of it.
That afternoon, I slipped into a smart, no-nonsense dress and brought my accountant along as we made the rounds at the biggest fabric factories in the Capital.
With the Merchant Summit coming up fast, I was set on paving the way for Aurora Fabrics to break into the Capital.
I threw out some seriously generous partnership offers, and thanks to Heaven's Teal's stellar reputation back in Southbank, the shop owners were all itching to work with us.
The negotiations went off without a hitch.
As dusk settled and I was heading home, my carriage was stopped in its tracks.
Darell stood outside, even more deferential than he'd been that morning—there was almost a hint of desperation in his eyes.
"Ms. Chasey, Mr. Saunders is asking to see you," he said.
"Not interested," I shot back, not even bothering to lift the curtain.
"Ms. Chasey," Darell's voice took on a desperate edge. "Mr. Saunders... he hasn't touched a drop of water since last night, and he's been standing out in the wind all day. He said... if you won't see him, he won't leave."
I couldn't help but scoff inwardly.
Pulling the old sympathy act, huh?
Andy, even you are resorting to such a lame tactic?
That was his business, not mine.
"Keep moving," I ordered the coachman.
The carriage moved on.
I figured Darell would step aside.
But to my surprise, he dropped to his knees right in front of the carriage.
"Ms. Chasey, I'm begging you. He has been searching for you for five years; he's nearly gone mad with worry," he pleaded.
"What happened five years ago wasn't what you think. He had his own reasons!"
The carriage came to a halt.
Inside, the silence was suffocating.
His reasons?
Does he really think that erases all the pain and hurt I've suffered?
My hands clenched hard.
After a long, heavy silence, I finally heard my own voice—icy and unyielding. "Let him come and say it to me himself."
Darell looked like he'd just been granted a pardon, scrambling up and bowing to the carriage, barely able to contain his relief.
"Yes, yes! Thank you, Ms. Chasey, thank you! I'll go report to my master right away," he stammered, nearly tripping over himself in his rush.
My carriage started moving again.