When Her "Death" Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel)

Cecilia opened her mouth to offer to accompany Elliot, yet Nathaniel's low voice arrived first, cutting gently through the clatter of dishes. “You're not a toddler anymore. Off you go on your own.”

Elliot answered with an obedient little hum before slipping off his stool and padding toward the restroom corridor, the tassels on his monkey mask bobbing with every determined step.

The moment he disappeared around the corner, Cecilia's shoulders stiffened. She turned to Nathaniel. “Would you mind trailing the kid? If some creep sets eyes on him, what then?”

Nathaniel met her gaze, calm and steady. "Relax. Security here is airtight, and he's got a bodyguard shadowing him. Nothing will happen."

Assured that a guard was in tow, Cecilia allowed a breath she hadn't realized she was holding to ease out.

Only then did she notice how tightly Nathaniel's jaw was set. “You look upset. Something wrong? Work trouble?"

"No. I'm perfectly fine," Nathaniel replied, voice even, expression unreadable.

Across the table, Jonathan squinted at his father. "Dad, your face is darker than a chalkboard. Drop the act."

Nathaniel's brows knitted, a tiny storm cloud passing over his features.

Cecilia leaned in, worry softening her tone. “Talk to me. What's weighing on you?”

"I'm just working through a single question,” Nathaniel said, choosing each word with maddening care.

"Which question?"

He locked eyes with her. "What suit I should wear for New Year's."

swung straight for the

these days, no longer tried

suits look the same," she

around in Nathaniel's chest, souring

the

decided his dad deserved

Daddy, I need the restroom too," Jonathan announced, already

said, brushing a crumb

room, shoulders squared with a mission only

silence between husband

and laid a generous slice of braised sea bass onto Cecilia's plate. “Eat

already putting on

Nathaniel thought, irked that she showered the children with new outfits yet never once considered her fully-grown husband. He swallowed the complaint with

bodyguard and stole

mannequins and rows of tailored jackets, the little boy in a

sales associate approached, her polite smile edging into concern. "Hello there, young man. Why are you here all by yourself?

his

slipping just enough for his eyes to meet the sales associate's curious stare. "I'd like to see the figest suits you carry formen," he said, every syllable

surprise flickering across her perfectly

coat and spotless shoes told her the child belonged to serious money. After all, no one wandered into this luxury mall without

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