Chapter 3
I looked down in disbelief, only to see Quinn tugging at my coat. His eyes were still slightly red, but he lifted his face, trying hard to stay calm as he urged me:
"Mommy, the car's waiting for us. Let's go."
Looking at his small face struggling to maintain composure, I suddenly realized there was no point wasting any more energy on the man standing before me.
I took a deep breath and gripped his hand firmly: "Okay."
The instant we brushed past him, a hand shot out and intercepted me, clamping down hard on my wrist.
A rare flash of shock and panic crossed Sebastian's usually cold eyes. His jaw tightened as he stared at me, voice low and tight: "Did you teach him that? To call me that?"
Looking at his accusatory expression, I found it absurdly laughable.
"Do I need to teach him, Sebastian?" I twisted my lips into a sardonic smile, meeting his gaze without flinching.
"Isn't this the rule you established yourself? That whenever outsiders are present, he can only call you Mr. Hawthorne?"
For five years, for the sake of his ridiculous privacy and dignity, he had coldly pushed away Quinn's attempts at affection more times than I could count, correcting him again and again.
Now that our son had finally drawn the boundary he wanted, now he couldn't handle it?
I yanked my hand back, but he refused to let go.
Sebastian's chest rose and fell slightly, a hint of guilt flickering in his eyes—one he himself hadn't even noticed: "Give me a few days. Once I finish this case, I'll explain everything to Quinn personally..."
"Sebastian, what are you doing?" Delilah's saccharine voice cut in abruptly, crudely interrupting the tug-of-war.
The tense atmosphere shattered instantly. I looked at him coldly: "Let go. Your intern is getting impatient."
At those words, something flickered in Sebastian's eyes, and his grip unconsciously loosened.
I pulled my hand away without looking back, grabbed my suitcase, and headed toward the elevator.
A pair of high heels suddenly stopped in front of us.
Delilah walked over, blocking my path. She pulled out a macaron from her bag and held it directly out to Quinn.
"What an adorable little boy." She bent down with a bright smile. "Since you're leaving, here, have a sweet treat. Consider it my farewell gift on Sebastian's behalf."
Faced with the beautifully colored pastry held before him, the five-year-old's attention was instantly captured.
No matter how well-behaved he usually was, Quinn was still a child. He reached out somewhat awkwardly to accept it, unable to resist bringing it to his mouth for a small bite.
The sweet taste melted on his tongue, and Quinn's eyes lit up slightly.
He lifted his small face, sharing with me somewhat excitedly: "It's sweet. I think there's nuts in it..."
At those words, panic shot through me.
"Spit it out! Spit it out now!"
I practically lunged forward on reflex, knocking the thing from his hand.
Sebastian's brow furrowed sharply. He instinctively pulled the startled Delilah behind him, his tone severe: "Evelyn! What's gotten into you? She was just being kind!"
I had no time to address his rebuke, because Quinn's movements had already frozen.
His fair cheeks were turning purple-red at a visible rate. He clawed desperately at his throat, gasping for air with terrible, wheezing breaths.
Severe allergic asthma!
"Macarons are made with almond flour! Quinn is severely allergic to tree nuts—it can kill him. You didn't know?!" I screamed at Sebastian, my hands trembling as I tore open the backpack zipper, frantically searching for the emergency inhaler.
Sebastian seemed nailed to the spot. The attorney who was always coldly decisive in court now wore nothing but blank terror on his face.
"I... I didn't know..." His voice was hoarse, completely stammering.
I yanked off the cap and pressed it against Quinn's mouth.
As the medication took effect, within seconds his terrible wheezing gradually subsided, and his cold-sweat-soaked little body collapsed limply in my arms.
"I didn't know."
Those four words were so absurd they made me sick. Five years, and as a father, he knew nothing about his son's life-threatening allergen.
Quinn weakly opened his eyes, looking toward Sebastian standing helplessly a few steps away.
In those eyes that had once always sought to please his father, there was now no grievance, not even tears—only the strangeness of lost expectation.
"It's okay, Mommy." Quinn buried his face in the crook of my neck, his voice faint. "It's normal that Mr. Hawthorne didn't know."
That sentence struck like a resounding slap, shattering what remained of Sebastian's dignity.
I was completely drained. I didn't even have the energy to look at him again. Without another moment's hesitation, I held Quinn tight, grabbed my suitcase, and walked straight into the elevator.
The instant I turned around, the metal doors began sliding closed toward the center.
Through the narrowing gap, the frozen Sebastian seemed to wake from a dream, stumbling forward a step, his pale lips moving as if to follow.
Clang.
The elevator doors closed ruthlessly, completely cutting off his panic and shock.
As the sensation of weightlessness came, this absurd entanglement that had lasted five years was finally left behind for good.
On the way to the airport, the car was utterly quiet. Quinn, having just endured the severe asthma attack, leaned exhaustedly in the crook of my arm.
I lowered my head and kissed his pale forehead: "Will you blame me for taking you completely away from here?"
Quinn gripped my fingers tightly, as if seeking security: "I only need Mommy."
The bitterness I'd suppressed all night finally turned into silent tears.
I freed one hand to pull out my phone and deleted all of Sebastian's contact information in one sweep, along with five years of this, blocking everything.
Goodbye forever, Sebastian.
The next morning, Sebastian arrived at the law firm right on schedule.
Because of last night's incident, he hadn't slept well at all, his mind constantly plagued by an inexplicable restlessness and unease.
He'd even decided to cancel two meetings today to visit the mother and son at that hotel across town.
He sat at his desk with black coffee, opening his email.
As soon as the interface loaded, an email with an HR department tag sat quietly at the top of his inbox.
[Subject: Resignation Application Approval Notice]
The screen's blue light illuminated his face. Looking at this email, Sebastian's heart suddenly dropped.
"Resignation application?"
