chapter2195
At Jonathan's words, a barely perceptible tremor crossed Nicholas's face, as fleeting as a ripple on still water.
Jonathan, ever observant, caught that tremor and filed it away like evidence in a private case.
Nicholas set his cup down with care. "Jon, who told you I'm Dahlia's father?"
Jonathan tilted his chin, grin sharpening. "No one had to tell me," he answered, words quick and sharp.
Across the table, Elliot sensed tension rippling beneath their calm voices, the way a silent current swirls under placid water.
He lowered his head and chased scrambled eggs around his plate, unwilling to meet any eyes. Why is Jonathan poking the bear?
Nicholas opened his mouth-to defend, perhaps to confess—but footsteps cut him off. Cecilia entered with Nathaniel close behind, shepherding two smaller children. The dining chairs scraped softly as they sat.
For a heartbeat, Nicholas watched the tidy picture of family opposite him.
His gaze lingered, unreadable, then slid away. The rest of breakfast unfolded beneath a blanket of delicate silence, broken only by clinking cutlery and the occasional rustle of napkins.
When the meal ended, Cecilia shepherded Jonathan and Elliot toward the car to go to school.
Felix, backpack slung over one shoulder, stepped out just then. Miranda walked beside him, hand on the boy's shoulder. The two groups converged at the foyer.
"Ceci, what a coincidence," Miranda said, surprise flickering before her practiced smile settled into place.
Cecilia returned the expression, polite and measured. "Yes-quite the coincidence." Elliot and Jonathan greeted in unison, "Morning, Miranda!"
Felix-hands shoved into the pockets of a jacket two sizes too cool for a grade- schooler-swaggered up beside Cecilia and offered the briefest of nods. "Morning, Aunt Cecilia."
To the casual passer-by, it could have been a postcard of domestic bliss: polite nephews, attentive aunt, well-scrubbed uniforms, and not one shadow of rivalry in sight.
Miranda stepped to Cecilia's shoulder, heels clicking a crisp rhythm on the flagstones as they all waited for the family driver to appear.
Miranda's lipstick-red smile never quite reached her eyes. She tilted her head, letting a strand of hair fall artfully across her cheek. "Ceci, have you signed up for the school's parents' association yet?"
Back in preschool, Cecilia had grabbed that coveted committee seat before Miranda even found the application form, forcing Miranda to smile through gritted teeth at every bake sale.
Now the boys were in elementary school, the position mattered even more, and Miranda—whose son had only transferred last year had finally become eligible.
Cecilia kept her tone airy. "Work's insane right now. Running Jamieson Group leaves zero room for volunteer duties, I'm afraid."
Besides, if a little money can spare me endless cupcake fund-raisers and policy meetings, why on earth wouldn't I spend it?
Miranda tapped one finger against her phone and gave a thoughtful nod. "True, true-you're juggling Jamieson Group. Who could blame you for lacking time? I've already applied, though. If Jon or Elliot ever need something from the parents' association, promise you'll let me know."
The sugary offer carried a metallic aftertaste. Miranda wanted Cecilia to remember exactly who would soon be whispering in every homeroom teacher's ear-and who might complicate two little boys school days.
Cecilia heard the threat as clearly as if it had been carved into the marble steps.
"Thank you, but that won't be necessary."
Times had changed. Cecilia now sat
in the CEO's chair at Jamieson Group and, more to the point, owned
a significant block of the schools shares Even a parents association president couldn't ruffle her O
children's futures.
Pity that Miranda hadn't caught up. She still believed a committee badge could bruise Cecilia's composure.
At last, a sleek black sedan rolled beneath the portico, engine purring like a well-fed
cat.
Miranda's eyes lit. She clasped Felix's hand and hurried toward the rear door, the boy almost jogging to match her pace.
The driver stepped out, cap in hand. "Terribly sorry, ma'am—this car is for Jon and Elliot."
Miranda froze mid-stride. The heel she'd lifted in confident anticipation settled back to stone, and a blush of embarrassment spread beneath her foundation.
"Did they change drivers overnight?" she muttered, confusion eclipsing her smile. The man standing before her was the same chauffeur who usually ferried her and Felix to school.
"Mr. Marco has the day off," the driver explained. "Mdm. Elena asked me to deliver Jon and Elliot first. Once they're dropped, I'll circle back for you and Mr. Felix."