Chapter 6

Garrett arrived home after spending two nights with Vanessa. Without a word, he took off his suit jacket and carelessly tossed it onto the sofa.

Elara, who was sitting on the floor reading a picture book with Ollie, looked up for a moment. A sweet, unfamiliar perfume lingered in the air as Garrett walked past her. Elara didn't ask any questions. As usual, she chose to stay silent.

Garrett loosened his tie and stared at Elara with cold eyes. "Get my overnight bag from the car."

Elara lowered the book and was about to stand up. But before she could make a move, Ollie's small voice interrupted.

"Why does my Mommy have to get it?" the four-year-old boy protested with a frown. "Why don't you get it yourself?"

Elara froze. Ollie was usually too terrified to speak up, but now his eyes glared at his father with clear disapproval.

Garrett stopped in his tracks. He turned around slowly, his gaze sharpening. "What did you just say?"

"Mommy is tired..." Ollie whispered softly, his little fingers clutching the hem of Elara’s shirt.

The room went quiet. Garrett stepped toward his son, his face cold.

"Ollie, go to your room. Now," Garrett ordered, his voice trembling with suppressed anger.

Ollie shook his head rapidly. "No! Mommy hasn't finished reading the book!"

Elara touched Ollie’s shoulder in a panic, trying to calm him before Garrett snapped. "Ollie, sweetie... listen to your Daddy. Go to your room, we'll finish it tomorrow, okay?"

Tears welled up in Ollie's eyes. "But I still want to be with Mommy..."

Garrett left no room for negotiation. He grabbed Ollie by the arm and dragged him toward the bedroom. Ollie struggled and started crying, but Garrett shoved him inside and slammed the door so hard it echoed throughout the house.

When Garrett turned back to face Elara, his eyes were cold and dark.

"You taught him to disrespect me?" his voice was low, heavy, and full of threat.

"No, Garrett. I never—"

"Don't lie to me!" Garrett closed the distance in quick strides, grabbing a fistful of Elara’s hair and forcing her head back. Elara winced as a sharp pain shot through her scalp. "Since when does my own son have the nerve to talk back to me?! You’ve been poisoning his mind, haven't you?!"

"Garrett... let go... please..." Elara whimpered, her fingers desperately trying to pry his hand from her hair.

Garrett backhanded her across the face, the force spinning her head and knocking her onto the sofa. A sharp, burning sting flared across her cheek as her lip split.

Elara stayed curled on the sofa, clutching her burning cheek as tears overflowed.

"I bust my ass out there making money, and this is what I come home to?!" Garrett yelled. "A useless wife and a disrespectful brat!"

The commotion drew Audrey out of her bedroom. Seeing Elara slumped on the sofa, clutching her throbbing cheek, the older woman showed no trace of shock or pity—only sheer disgust.

"What is all this noise in the middle of the night?" Audrey scoffed. "Are you causing trouble again, Elara?"

Elara stayed curled up on the sofa, her body trembling as her cheek burned and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..."

"Did you teach Ollie to be disrespectful to his father?" Audrey cut in coldly. "It’s bad enough that you're a financial burden to this family, now you want to ruin my grandson too?"

Garrett scoffed. "I told you from the very beginning, Mom. This woman has no class and doesn't belong in this house. She ruins everything."

Audrey crossed her arms, looking Elara up and down. "She is useless, yes, but at least she used to be obedient. If she's starting to act up, I will throw her out on the streets myself." Audrey shook her head and turned around. "Deal with her, Garrett. I'm going to bed."

After Audrey left, Garrett glared at Elara with icy eyes. "Get the bag from the car. Now."

Clutching her burning cheek and bleeding lip, Elara slowly uncurled herself from the sofa. Her scalp was still raw from his grip, but she had no choice. She forced herself to her feet and walked out into the cold night to fetch his bag.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, silence usually held Cassian Kenneth’s sprawling estate. Tonight, however, one wing was in utter chaos.

Anya's bedroom looked like a battlefield, plushies strewn across the rug, storybooks slung everywhere, and expensive toys dumped near the doorway.

Two private nannies looked completely overwhelmed.

"Miss Anya, it is way past your bedtime," one of the nannies coaxed gently.

Anya stood on top of her plush bed, crossing her arms over her chest with a deep pout. "Why do I have to sleep?"

"Because you have school tomorrow."

"Since when does going to school mean I have to sleep now?" Anya fired back quickly, then started bouncing on her mattress like a trampoline.

Amanda leaned back on the bedroom sofa, a glass in hand. She scrolled idly through her phone before letting out a soft sigh. She had zero intention of getting involved in taming her stubborn niece.

Suddenly, heavy and steady footsteps echoed down the hallway, approaching the room. Just as the sound grew louder, Anya threw a thick storybook straight toward the open doorway.

Smack.

A hand shot out and caught the book in mid-air, inches before it hit his face.

Cassian Kenneth stood in the doorway.

The entire room froze instantly. The nannies immediately bowed their heads, their bodies tense, while Anya remained standing on the bed, tilting her chin up to challenge her father.