Chapter 4 The Bang

Emery searching for Leo.

Across the room, Leo flinched violently. His eyes went wide, and he slipped off the stool like a string had been cut. He crawled under the counter, curling into himself, arms tight around his knees.

"Leo!" Emery rushed toward him, dropping to her knees beside the marble island.

"I'm here," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I'm right here. You're okay."

He didn't speak. Just rocked slightly, eyes glassy with fear.

Her hands hovered over him, not sure what to touch, what not to. He was shivering-tiny, rhythmic trembles in his limbs. Like his body had gone into defense mode.

Behind her, rapid footsteps echoed from the hall.

Jaxon burst through the kitchen doors, his expression thunderous. Two security men followed, eyes sweeping the space, earpieces crackling.

Emery turned to him. "What the hell was that?"

"False alarm," Jaxon said, already pulling his phone out. "A guard outside discharged his weapon accidentally during a perimeter check. No active threat."

"An accident?"

Jaxon knelt beside her, his gaze going to Leo. The boy was frozen, his face pale.

"Leo," Jaxon said quietly. "You're safe. Nothing's going to happen."

Leo didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stared at nothing.

Jaxon's jaw locked. He turned to one of the guards. "Clear the east wing. I want a full report in ten minutes. No press leaks. No gaps. And make sure the cameras didn't pick up the sound inside."

The men nodded and disappeared.

Emery's eyes narrowed. "Is that really what you're worried about? Cameras and press leaks?"

"I'm worried about exposure," he said coolly. "Security failures. Weaknesses that can be exploited."

"He's not a breach to be managed, Jaxon. He's your son. Look at him."

Jaxon looked. But his face didn't change.

"Get him out from under the counter," he said. "Take him to his room. He'll calm down faster in a familiar space."

Emery turned back to Leo, her anger shoved down deep under something more urgent. She crawled beside him and spoke gently. "Hey, it's okay. Let's go upstairs. You can sit with me. Or hide under the covers. I'll bring Pancake Bear."

At the mention of the bear, Leo's lashes fluttered. He blinked once, then twice.

His fingers reached out-small, shaky-and took hers.

It took almost half an hour to get him settled in his room. Emery let him bury himself under the blanket and pressed Pancake Bear into his arms. She stayed close but didn't crowd him, just perched on the edge of the bed and rubbed gentle circles on his back.

"I don't like loud noises," Leo whispered finally. "They sound like when Mommy crashed."

Emery blinked hard.

His voice was thin. Almost not there.

She hadn't heard him speak in days. Not like this.

She leaned closer. "Did you hear something like that... when she-?"

He nodded. "There was a bang. A loud one. Then everything was red."

Tears prickled in Emery's eyes, but she didn't let them fall.

"Thank you for telling me," she said softly. "That's really brave, Leo."

He pulled the bear closer. "Is Daddy mad at me?"

"What? No." She shook her head, stunned. "He's not mad. He's worried. He just shows it in weird ways."

"He gets quiet."

"Yeah. Grown-ups do that sometimes when they're scared."

Leo looked up at her. "Is Daddy scared?"

Emery thought of Jaxon's expression in the kitchen-tight, rigid, cold. She thought of the way he barked orders instead of checking on Leo. The way he left the room like feelings were fire alarms he didn't want to hear.

"Yes," she said finally. "I think he is."

Jaxon stood in his office later that afternoon, staring out the window, his phone to his ear.

"Yes," he said. "I want the footage pulled and locked down. No leaks. No signatures. I don't care if it was a false alarm-we don't give the market a scent of weakness."

A pause.

"No. I don't want the board involved. This doesn't reach shareholders. If PR calls, you tell them it was a fire drill."

He ended the call and tossed the phone on his desk.

There was a knock at the door.

Emery.

She stepped in without waiting for permission, arms crossed, her usual warmth noticeably colder.

"You should talk to him," she said.

Jaxon turned back to the window. "He's fine."

"No, he's not."

"He'll forget it."

"No, Jaxon. You will forget it. Because that's what you do-bury everything under steel and money and pretending none of it touches you. But Leo's not you. He remembers. And this time, he's remembering that his own father didn't show up for him."

He turned slowly. His eyes were sharp. "I showed up."

"You showed up with orders. Not comfort."

Silence.

Emery stepped closer. "He thinks you're mad at him."

Jaxon's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because you left him there. Curled up under a counter, shaking like a leaf, while you worried about footage and liability."

Jaxon's face paled just slightly.

"I didn't know," he said.

"Because you didn't ask."

Another silence.

Then Jaxon spoke, more quietly this time. "He doesn't talk to me."

"Because you don't give him space to. You treat emotions like a liability. But kids-especially kids who've seen what Leo has-they need to know it's okay to feel scared. To cry. To ask."

He looked down at his hands.

"I'm not good at this," he said.

"I know." Emery softened just slightly. "But you could be. If you'd just let yourself be human for five minutes."

He looked up. "I hired you to care for him. I didn't hire you to change me."

"No," she said. "But it might happen anyway."

They stood there, the air between them taut with something unsaid. Emery looked like she wanted to take another step forward.

But she didn't.

She just turned and walked out of the room.

That night, Emery sat on the couch with Leo, wrapped in a blanket. They watched a cartoon about a bear that owned a bakery, and Leo didn't say much. But he stayed pressed against her side the entire time.

Jaxon walked in just as the credits rolled. He paused in the doorway, unsure.

Emery glanced at him. "He's been waiting for you."

Jaxon stepped in. "Leo."

The boy looked up.

"I'm sorry," Jaxon said.

Leo blinked.

"I was scared," Jaxon continued. "And when I get scared, I get quiet. That's not your fault."

Leo didn't speak. But he moved-just slightly-and patted the couch cushion next to him.

An invitation.

Jaxon hesitated, then walked over and sat down. Rigid at first. Then less so.

Leo reached out slowly.

Jaxon froze.

And Leo placed Pancake Bear in his father's lap.

Not a hug. Not a word.

But an offering.

Jaxon stared at the bear like it was something ancient and powerful.

"Thanks," he said.

And then he just sat there. Quiet. Not moving.

Emery didn't say a word.

But she smiled.

Because for the first time, Jaxon Thorne wasn't just present.

He was trying.