Chapter 475 Not A Discussion

Katia’s POV

Aiden noticed the second car before we left the driveway.

He stood on the step with his bag on one shoulder and his socks already sliding down, watching the black car behind ours like it had personally offended him.

“Why is that one coming too?” he asked.

“Because Dad said so.”

“Dad says a lot of things now.”

“Yes,” I said. “And today we are listening.”

Sam was already in the front. Zane was in the second car. I hated how normal it had started to look. Extra men. Changed routes. A child asking questions I could not fully answer without putting fear in his mouth.

Aiden climbed in beside me and buckled himself with the fierce concentration of a boy who wanted to be treated like he understood the world.

“Is this because of the accident?” he asked.

“It is because we are being careful.”

“That is the same thing.”

I looked at him. “It is close enough.”

He leaned his head against the window. “I don’t like the men watching the gate. They look at me like I might run.”

“You are not going to run.”

“I know. I still don’t like it.”

The drive should have been ordinary. School traffic. A woman in yoga clothes arguing with a driver. A boy on a scooter. Windsor Academy sitting at the top of the road like it had never once been touched by anything ugly. I kept my hand on Aiden’s knee and watched the second car stay with us.

At the gate, the usual crowd was there. Nannies. Drivers. Two mothers comparing calendars. A teacher with a clipboard. I stepped out first. Aiden came after me, bag bouncing against his hip.

That was when I saw him.

Not one of ours. Not a parent I knew. A man standing too far from the entrance to look like he belonged and too close to look like he was only passing. He watched the line of cars. Then he watched Aiden.

I moved my body in front of my son without making a show of it.

“Stay with me.”

“I am with you.”

The man did not come closer. He did not need to. He looked at Aiden long enough for me to feel it in my teeth, then turned his head as if he had only been waiting for a name.

A teacher I knew from drop-off came toward us. Her smile was already wrong.

“Mrs. Windsor. Someone asked for Aiden this morning.”

My hand tightened on Aiden’s shoulder. “Who?”

“He said he was family. He didn’t give a name that matched the pickup list. We didn’t release anyone, of course. I thought you should know.”

“What did he look like?”

She gave me a thin description. Tall. Dark coat. Calm voice. The kind of calm that made people want to be helpful. He had asked if Aiden still left through the main gate. He had asked if the route had changed.

I felt the baby shift, a small reminder that my body was already carrying too much.

“He left this with the office,” the teacher said.

She held out an envelope. No stamp. Aiden’s name on the front in neat black ink.

I took it.

“He goes home with me today,” I said. “He is not staying.”

Aiden looked up. “Mum.”

“Not a discussion.”

Sam was already out of the car. Zane had left the second vehicle. The man by the hedge was gone. That was the part that made my stomach drop. He had not run. He had finished what he came to do.

I put Aiden in the car, closed the door, and opened the envelope with my back to the window.

One line.

Tell your husband the boy is easier to reach than a company.

I folded it once, then again, because my hands needed something to do that was not shaking in front of my son.

I called Julian. He answered on the first ring.

“Babe.”

“Someone was at the school. They asked for Aiden by name. They knew the gate. They knew the pickup had changed. They left a note.”

He didn’t answer right away, then he spoke. “Read it.”

I did. I heard him breathe in once.

“Do not go home the usual way. Zane stays on you. I am leaving now.”

“Julian.”

“I heard you.”

Aiden watched my face in the mirror. “Was that Dad?”

“Yes.”

“Are we in trouble?”

“No. We are going home.”

“I have maths.”

“You can do maths at the table.”

He frowned, then reached for my hand. His fingers were warm and small and completely unaware of the sentence in my bag.

“I don’t want to miss the game at break.”

“I know.” I squeezed his hand. “Today you miss it.”

We did not talk much on the way back. Sam took a longer route. Zane stayed close. I kept looking at the cars behind us even when I knew they were ours. The note sat in my bag like it had a pulse.