Chapter 7

Amy's POV 

I had dealt with difficult people all my life, from my bosses to the doctors at the hospital, and I knew what I had just gotten myself into. 

That was what I told myself as I stood outside Lucien's door the following morning, holding a breakfast tray. I spent the better part of last night thinking about my conversation with Kane. Living in the same house as Thane was going to be difficult. It unsettled me, and it ripped my heart to stand in front of the man who had once known every little thing about me and pretend that we were strangers. But right now, I could not afford to dwell on it because I had a job to do, and more importantly, a son to get close to. 

I knocked gently on the door. “Lucien, it's time for breakfast.” 

“Go away,” he yelled. 

I closed my eyes briefly. “You have to open up or your breakfast will get cold.” 

“I said go away.”

I pushed the door open carefully. The room was enormous, almost as big as my previous apartment. Expensive toys were scattered across the floor and clothes thrown carelessly by a chair. Lucien sat on a bed with his legs crossed as he played with a miniature racing car. 

He didn't bother to look up when I entered. 

“Good morning Lucien.” 

“I don't want you here.” 

I slowly placed the tray on the coffee table. “That is quite unfortunate, because I will be spending a lot of time here.” 

He finally looked up and his little face twisted into a scowl. “You are ugly.”

I blinked. “That is not a nice thing to say.”

“I don't care,” he shot at me. 

I walked towards him and crouched until we were at eye level. “Come on, let's have breakfast.” 

“No.” 

“There's pancakes.” 

“I hate pancakes.”

I sighed. Kane had told me they were his favorite breakfast. “I brought apples.” 

“I hate apples.” 

I glanced at the tray. It carried a small bowl of scrambled eggs, pancakes, sliced apples, and a glass of milk. “Do you hate everything?”

“Yes.” he replied. 

I almost laughed but his expression made it clear that he was not joking. “So tell me what you like.” 

“Nothing that you brought.”

“That's fine.” I got back on my feet as I ran my hands over my uniform. “We can find you something else.” 

“I want Seraphina,” he whined. 

I paused and turned around. “I can get your mother for you.”

Your mother. The word tasted like bile in my mouth. 

“She wouldn't come,” he said with a frown. 

I swallowed. “I would just have the kitchen get you something else.”

“Get me chocolate milk.”

“You have to say please, Lucien.”

“I want it now.” His voice rose sharply, and I took a deep breath. 

“Shouting would not get you anywhere with me.”  

He stared at me for a moment before walking over to the table and turning it over. The glass of milk fell to the rug, and so did the rest of the breakfast. I jumped back just as the milk splashed across my shoes. 

“There. Now get me something else.”

I stared at the broken glass and then at him. “That was dangerous, Lucien. You could have hurt yourself.”

“I don't care.” He screamed. 

“Lucien…”

“Get me something else.” His voice filled the room and I stood there unsure whether to comfort him or give him space. 

I had expected resistance. I had expected unfamiliarity but not this level of anger from a child so young. I walked out and called one of the maids to clean up the mess. It was barely eight in the morning, and I was already exhausted. 

         Before noon, I had learned three things about Lucien: he hated being told no, he expected everyone to do just what he wanted, and he had no problem making life miserable for anyone who failed to obey him. When I tried to get him dressed, he refused and when I threatened to take away his racing cars, he threatened to throw himself down the stairs. 

I didn't let him have his sweets before brunch and he threw a tantrum. He hid one of his shoes and accused me of stealing it. 

And when I finally got him downstairs, he ran past me and straight towards Seraphina. I walked after him. Seraphina lay on the couch, speaking to someone on her phone. She barely glanced up when Lucien approached. 

“Mommy,” he called. 

“Not now, Lucien.” Her voice was harsh as she raised a palm. 

He stopped in front of her. “Look what I made.” 

He held up a small drawing. She glanced at it for less than a second. “It's lovely.” 

“Look properly.” He said, pushing the paper towards her. 

She sighed, lowered her phone and pressed it against her chest. “Lucien, I am busy. Get out and find something to do with yourself.” 

“But I want you to see my drawing.” He said in a quiet voice.  

“I have seen it.” She snapped. “What do you want? For me to hang it up in the hallway like you are Da Vinci?” 

He stood there for a few seconds, his little chest heaving up and down. When her attention returned to the phone, his face crumbled. “You are always busy.”

Seraphina's head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

“You never play with me,” he pouted. 

“Please don't start. Go with your nanny.” 

She snapped her fingers at me and I approached Lucien, whose eyes were already filled with tears. 

“I don't want her.” He screamed as his little hands grabbed her skirt. Seraphina pursed her lips in disgust as she shrugged him off. Her patience was visibly running thin. 

“Can you stop being such a bastard?” She screamed. 

The words hung in the room. I stared at her and Lucien's drawing slipped from his fingers. For a second, I thought he might cry. Instead, he snatched the paper from the floor and tore it into pieces, leaving them at Seraphina's feet. 

He ran out of the room and I followed him, but not before I noticed that Seraphina had quickly returned to her phone call. I caught up with him just near the staircase. 

“Lucien, wait.” 

“Leave me alone.” He screamed. 

“Your drawing was lovely.”

He stopped. “You are lying.” 

“I am not. I liked it.” 

“But Seraphina didn't like it.” He sniffed loudly. 

I adjusted his collar. “She was simply distracted but that does not mean your drawing wasn't beautiful.”

“She never cares about anything I do,” he said softly. 

My heart twisted. I wanted to pull him into my arms and tell him how much he was loved but I couldn't. I was supposed to be a stranger. So I settled for ruffling his hair a little. 

“Come on, we'll find something to do.” 

“I don't want to do anything with you.” He marched away and I stood there helplessly in the hallway as I watched him go.

A realization hit me there. I began to understand that his behavior was not simply about being spoiled. Lucien wanted attention. He wanted someone to look at him when he spoke, to choose him when there were other things that demanded their time and to listen when he showed them something. And every time he had failed to get it, and his disappointment had grown into anger. It was easier for him to be difficult than to admit that he was alone.

            Dinner was a disaster. I sat across Lucien as he stared at his plate with his arms folded tightly across his chest. 

“Eat your vegetables.”

“I don't like them.”

“You haven't even tasted them. Come on, just a little.” 

He pushed the plate away. “I want chicken nuggets.”

“You'll have chicken nuggets tomorrow.” 

“I want them today.” 

I sighed. “Lucien, you must eat proper food. You can't live on sweets and chicken nuggets. It's not healthy.”

“Don't tell me what to do.” He pushed his chair back and jumped off it. “You are not my mother.”

The words cut at me so sharply like a heated blade.