The drive home was silent.
The city lights slid across the tinted windows in restless streaks, painting fleeting colors on the glass—amber, blue, red. Inside the SUV, the atmosphere was heavier than the smoke that hung outside the docks.
Liam sat on the opposite seat, his small frame turned toward the window. He hadn't said a word since they left. His reflection in the glass looked older than seven—too aware for his age.
Milan studied him quietly, hands folded on her lap.
Liam wouldn't look at her.
"Liam," she said finally, her voice low, measured. "You disobeyed me."
He didn't respond. Instead his eyes stayed fixed on the passing streets.
"I need you to understand something," she continued, her tone devoid of any softness that might have come from guilt. "Our world is not as simple as it seems. What you did today could have put you in extreme danger."
Still, Liam say nothing. Not even a glance.
For a woman who commanded rooms filled with men twice her age, his silence hit harder than any defiance she had faced.
"You're angry," she said. "I can accept that. But don't confuse freedom with recklessness."
Liam's voice was small, but sharp. "He didn't even know I existed."
Milan's chest tightened—just slightly, a betrayal of composure she immediately buried.
"That's not your concern," she said coolly. "You were never supposed to meet him."
"Why?" he shot back. "Because you hate him?"
Milan's jaw tensed. "Because.... he's not what he seems like. Because I built a life that doesn't need him."
Liam turned away again, his reflection breaking in the glass. "Then why did you look at him like that?"
, "Liam, that's between adults," she said trying to reach out to him but he moved further away.
Milan heaved a sigh and relented, placing her head on the car back rest, staring at Liam defiance.
The car fell silent again. Even Antonio, driving in the front, dared not breathe too loud.
Milan closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her voice had returned to its calm, unshakable tone. We're home."
The Vanquez estate rose from the hillside like a fortress carved from glass. Gated, sleek, illuminated by hidden floodlights that made the marble gleam under the moonlight.
As they stepped out of the car, the butler hurried to greet them—a man in his late fifties, composed and silent as always.
"Lady Vanquez," he bowed slightly. "Welcome home."
" Diego," she called out as a form of greeting.
"Prepare a room for my son," she instructed without pause.
The man blinked in surprise—he'd never seen her with a child. But years of service taught him not to question. "Yes, ma'am. I'll see to it immediately."
Liam lingered by the doorway, small backpack clutched in his hand. He glanced at the grand staircase ahead—portraits of Vanquez ancestors, chandeliers glittering like diamonds—and for the first time, he looked uncertain.
He didn't ask where his room was. He simply started walking, his small steps echoing in the vast hall.
Milan watched him go, her chest tightened, torn between a command and maternal instincts. She watched him go.
"See that he eats," she told the butler. "And make sure there's a nightlight."
"Yes, mi lady."
The butler followed Liam up the stairs. Milan waited until their footsteps faded before turning away.
Her room was silent and serene, a touch of minimal aesthetic with the faint scent of amber and gun oil lingering in the air.
She sat on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning her cuffs one by one, her movements slow yet deliberate. Across from her, the balcony doors stood open, letting in the city's cool night breeze.
Her gaze wandered to the skyline.
To his tower.
To him...Ryan Milwaukee.
His image still lingered behind her eyes—the hard cut of his jaw, the weight in his shoulders, the calm authority that hadn't dulled with time. He had aged into his power. And that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
Her mind betrayed her with memory. The way his hands used to steady her at the small of her back when the world turned dangerous. The way he used to say her name, low and deliberate—"Milan, stay still. I'll handle it."
But that voice had lied...That touch had betrayed.
She pushed the thought away, standing abruptly and walking toward the balcony. The city stretched before her; a kingdom she had conquered piece by piece. And yet, tonight, it felt as if she'd lost the one thing that ever truly belonged to her.
Her son's trust.
She wrapped her arms loosely around herself, expression cold but eyes distant. "You're too much like him," she whispered into the night.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Enter," she said without turning.
Antonio stepped in, expression cautious. "Mistress, a report just came in from our contact in District Twelve. Milwaukee patrols have been seen expanding their range closer to our warehouses. They're moving under Ryan's direct orders."
Milan's gaze sharpened. "He's testing me." she muttered, not as doubt- rather fact.
"It appears so." Antonio replied
"Then make sure he regrets it." she ordered.
Antonio nodded. "How do you wish to proceed?"
Milan turned fully now, her voice gaining its edge again— like the sound of the woman who had rebuilt an empire from exile.
"Begin quiet acquisition of his logistic partners. No open conflict yet. We'll bleed him where it hurts—business first."
"Yes, ma'am." Antonio replied
"Also," she added, picking up her phone, "schedule a meeting with the Continental Board tomorrow. I want to renew our offshore contracts before he makes a move."
"Understood Mistress."
He hesitated before leaving. "And….... Liam ma'am?"
Milan's expression didn't shift. "He'll adjust." she stated simply.
"Yes, Lady Vanquez."
When he was gone, silence returned—thicker now, filled with the weight of everything unspoken.
Milan placed her phone down, staring at it for a moment. The reflection on the glass caught her face, and for a fleeting second, she didn't see the woman who ruled organization and silenced rivals.
She saw the woman who once believed in love.
She exhaled slowly, lowering her gaze. "You'll regret crossing into my world again, Ryan," she muttered quietly. "Because this time, I'm not the one who breaks."
Milan turned toward her bed, but sleep was very far from her.
She sat again, watching the city through the balcony's veil of silver light. Somewhere beyond that skyline, Ryan was likely doing the same—watching, waiting, calculating.
And somewhere upstairs, her son—their son—slept in a house that felt foreign to them both.
Her empire was vast. Her enemies, countless. But tonight, Milan Vanquez's only battle was against her own heart.The morning light was merciless — too bright for the mood that hung in the house.
Milan woke early, though she hadn't really slept. The space beside her remained untouched, a cold emptiness that made the sheets feel heavier. She sat upright, her silk robe slipping from her shoulders as she rose and Walked to the balcony.
Outside, the world was still — birds somewhere in the distance, the hum of engines faint from the city below. But her mind wasn't quiet. It kept replaying Ryan's words, his insolent calm demeanor and the look in Liam's eyes after. That hurts silently.
By the time her coffee arrived, she had already arranged her thoughts into neat, dangerous lines.
"Send for Dario," her second in command, she told the maid, her tone smooth as glass. "Tell him I'll need an update on the shipment schedules… and the list of Ryan's newest contracts."
The girl hesitated — perhaps catching the subtle shift in Milan's voice — before nodding and heading out quickly.
Liam appeared just as the butler was setting the breakfast table. His hair was slightly scattered, his shirt misbuttoned by one. He looked like a man walking through someone else's house — uncertain of what to touch, where to belong.
Milan didn't look up when he entered. She was buttering a piece of toast, her movements unhurried, precise.
"Baby, did you sleep?" she asked, her voice gentle and calm.
Liam didn't respond rather he sat opposite her but didn't meet her eyes. The silence that followed was not comfortable. It was the type that makes the air feel heavier.
When the butler poured coffee into Liam's cup, Milan finally looked up — briefly.
"You'll be staying here indefinitely," she said. "I've arranged for the staff to give you anything you need."