8. Theo

Zara's POV

By the time Damon drops me outside the Devereaux estate the following morning, I have already decided that being married to him is going to test every ounce of patience I possess.

He spent most of the drive making irritating comments about my driving, my temper, and my apparent inability to appreciate the privilege of riding on the back of his motorcycle. I spent most of it reminding him that I never asked for a ride, a husband, or his opinion, and that if he called me Little Dove one more time, I would find a way to make him regret having a mouth.

Naturally, he called me Little Dove twice more.

Now he sits astride his motorcycle while I stand at the gates of the house I grew up in, staring at the place that has never felt like home.

"I'm coming back for you in an hour," he says, lifting his visor.

I turn toward him.

"Did I ask you to?"

"No, but you need to collect your belongings, and I have better things to do than spend my entire morning waiting for you to decide whether you want to bring a suitcase."

"Then go and do those better things, Beast. I know how to arrange my own transport."

His mouth curves.

"Of course you do, Little Dove. You know how to do everything, don't you?"

"Not everything. I'm still trying to work out how to make you shut up permanently."

He laughs, starts the engine, and rides away before I can come up with something sufficiently insulting to throw after him.

I watch him disappear down the road before turning toward the gates.

The Devereaux estate looks exactly as it always has, with its immaculate gardens, expensive stonework, and tall windows that reflect the morning sun. Everything is perfectly maintained because my parents believe appearances are more important than anything happening behind their front door.

I used to think leaving this place would feel like losing something important.

Now I only feel relieved that I no longer have to sleep beneath its roof.

I walk inside without waiting for anyone to announce me.

Celeste is in the sitting room, speaking to a housekeeper about arrangements for some upcoming family event. She looks up when I enter, and her gaze immediately drops to the wedding ring on my finger.

"Zara, where have you been? Your father has been trying to reach you."

I put my handbag on the nearest table.

"How unfortunate for him."

Her lips tighten.

"Don't start with me this morning. We have enough problems without you making everything more difficult."

I laugh under my breath.

"Mother, you forced me to marry a man I spent years hating, my former fiancé was sleeping with my sister, and you somehow expect me to walk through this house smiling as though I've just returned from a pleasant holiday. If you're looking for someone to make your life easier, I suggest you speak to Arabella. She's always been much better at pretending everything is wonderful."

Celeste's expression hardens.

"This attitude is precisely why your father has difficulty dealing with you."

"No, Mother. Father's difficulty dealing with me is that I refuse to behave like an obedient little doll whenever he snaps his fingers."

I pick up my handbag again.

"I'm here to collect my belongings. I'll be gone as soon as I'm finished."

"You will not take anything that belongs to this family."

I stare at her.

"My clothes, my personal belongings, and the things I bought with my own money belong to me. I'm not asking to take the bloody furniture."

Before she can respond, I hear a small sound from the hallway.

A door closing.

I turn.

Theo stands near the entrance to the corridor, clutching a little toy car in one hand. His dark eyes move from Celeste to me, and the moment he recognizes me, his expression changes. He doesn't run toward me or call my name the way he sometimes does when he has been waiting for me to visit.

Instead, he stands perfectly still.

My heart sinks.

"Hey, sweetheart."

His fingers tighten around the toy.

I crouch slightly, opening my arms without forcing him to come closer.

"Come here, Theo. It's me."

He glances at Celeste before taking a few cautious steps toward me. When he reaches me, he slips his small hand into mine and looks up at my face as though he needs to make sure I'm really standing in front of him.

I squeeze his fingers gently.

"There you are. I've missed you, little man."

He leans against my shoulder.

I wrap an arm around him and kiss the top of his head, feeling an ache settle deep in my chest. Theo has always been a quiet child, but there is a difference between being naturally reserved and being afraid to make a sound. I have seen that difference too many times in this house.

I know how Gideon and Celeste treat him when nobody is watching.

I know how quickly their patience disappears when he spills something, asks too many questions, or wants attention at the wrong moment. I know how often he has been left alone while the adults carry on with their lives, and I know how he watches their faces before speaking because he is trying to work out whether he is welcome.

Whenever I have been here, I have taken him with me whenever I could. We have spent afternoons in the garden, eaten ice cream in the kitchen, and watched cartoons in my old bedroom while he told me stories about things that mattered enormously to a three-year-old and barely made sense to anyone else.

I have always tried to make sure he knows that somebody wants him around.

Looking at him now, I wonder how much he has missed me since I left.

"Have you been a good boy?" I ask, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his forehead.

He nods.

"Have you been playing with your cars?"

Another nod.

"Have you been keeping all your best stories to yourself because I haven't been here to listen?"

His mouth twitches, almost forming a smile.

I smile back.

"Well, that's not acceptable, is it? You're going to have to tell me everything when I see you again."

Celeste clears her throat.

"Theo has been perfectly fine. There is no need to make such a fuss."

I turn my head toward her.

"I wasn't speaking to you."

Her eyes narrow.

"Zara, you have a husband now. You should be concentrating on your own household instead of encouraging this child's attachment to you."

I feel Theo's hand tighten around mine.

I look down at him before returning my attention to my mother.

"He's three years old, Mother. He isn't some inconvenient piece of furniture you can move out of the way when he no longer suits your plans."

"Watch your tone."

"Watch how you speak about him."

She rises from her chair.

"You have always interfered whenever we discipline him. You make it impossible for him to understand his place in this family."

His place.

The words make my stomach turn.

I pull Theo closer to my side.

"He's a child. His place is somewhere he feels safe, somewhere he can make a mistake without being treated like a burden, and somewhere the adults responsible for him actually give a damn about how he feels."

Celeste's face reddens.

"You are not his mother."

The words land harder than she intends, although I have no idea why they sting so much.

I know Theo is adopted. I know he came into this family when he was very young, and I have never questioned his place here because I have always believed that what matters is how a child is treated, not how he came into a family.

But my mother knows exactly where to strike.

"No," I reply, holding her gaze. "I'm the person who makes sure he has someone to talk to when you and Father can't be bothered."

"That is enough."

Gideon's voice comes from behind us.

I turn to find my father entering the sitting room, already dressed for the day and wearing the expression that has made entire boardrooms fall silent. His gaze moves from me to Theo, and his mouth tightens when he sees the boy holding my hand.

"I thought you were here to collect your belongings, Zara, not to start another argument."

"Then perhaps you should stop giving me reasons to have one."

He ignores my response.

"Theo, go to your room."

Theo's fingers tighten around mine.

I look down at him, noticing the way his shoulders rise and the way his gaze drops to the floor. He doesn't move until Gideon repeats the order, louder this time.

"Did you hear me? Go to your room."

I straighten.

"He can stay with me while I finish packing."

Gideon turns his attention to me.

"You will not interfere with how I run my household."

"And you will not order him around as though he's done something wrong simply because I'm here."

His expression darkens.

"You have become far too involved with this child. He is not your responsibility, and I expect you to stop encouraging this attachment now that you have a husband and a home of your own."

I feel Theo press closer to my side.

I want to scream at my father. I want to tell him that the problem isn't Theo's attachment to me but the fact that a little boy is afraid to stand in the same room as the people who are supposed to care for him.

Instead, I keep my voice steady.

"You can tell me a hundred times that he isn't my responsibility, Father, but that won't change the fact that I care about him. I'm not going to stop being kind to him simply because it makes your life inconvenient."

Gideon steps closer.

"You will do as you are told in this house."

I meet his gaze without flinching.

"I'm not a child anymore, and you don't get to control every part of my life. You have already forced me into a marriage I didn't want, and you have already made it perfectly clear what you think of me. Don't expect me to surrender the one relationship in this family that actually means something to me."

His jaw clenches.

"Be careful, Zara."

I smile without warmth.

"Or what? You'll threaten to send Theo away again? You can use whatever threats you like against me, Father, but don't expect me to stand here and pretend that what you do to him is acceptable."

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

Then Gideon looks at Theo with open irritation.

"Go upstairs."

Theo looks at me.

I crouch in front of him and gently smooth his hair.

"Listen to me, sweetheart. I have to collect my things, but I'm not disappearing. I'll come back to see you, and I'll call you as soon as I can. You haven't done anything wrong, all right?"

His eyes search mine.

"Promise?"

My throat tightens.

"I promise."

I press a kiss to his forehead before standing and following the housekeeper upstairs to collect my belongings. I take only what I need, refusing to waste another minute of my life arguing with my parents about possessions they have always used as a means of control.

When I return downstairs with my suitcase, Theo is waiting near the entrance.

He must have slipped away while Gideon was distracted, because the moment he sees me, he walks toward me with his toy car clutched in his hand.

I put my suitcase down and crouch to his height.

"I have to go now, little man, but I'll see you soon."

He reaches for my hand and holds it tightly.

"Don't leave me here."

The whisper is so quiet that I almost don't hear it.

For a moment, I cannot move.

I look into his frightened eyes and feel my heart break in a way that has nothing to do with Victor, Arabella, or the wedding that ruined my life.

I squeeze his hand.

"I'll come back for you, Theo. I promise you that."

Behind him, Gideon calls his name sharply.

Theo flinches.

I rise slowly, keeping my eyes on my father.

He has spent years making me believe that I have no power in this house, but as I watch Theo retreat toward him, I know one thing with absolute certainty.

Whatever else I have lost, I will not abandon this child.

And if Gideon thinks my marriage means he can finally keep me away from Theo, he has seriously underestimated how far I am willing to go.