When your silence became mine

CHAPTER FIVE

Rules

By the end of her first week on the executive floor, Amelia had learned one thing.

There were rules.

No one had written them down.

No one had to.

Everyone simply... knew.

Rule number one.

Never interrupt Mr. Blackwood while he's reading.

Rule number two.

Never schedule meetings before he'd seen his morning reports.

Rule number three.

Never assume he was finished speaking just because he stopped.

Sometimes his silence was part of the conversation.

And the most important rule of all—

If Margaret sighed...

Run.

"Miss Hart."

Amelia looked up from her laptop.

Adrian walked toward her, already buttoning his suit jacket.

"You're accompanying me."

She blinked.

"...Where?"

"If I wanted you to know yesterday, I would've told you yesterday."

"...Right."

She grabbed her notebook.

Margaret smiled sympathetically.

"Good luck."

Amelia narrowed her eyes.

"I don't like that smile."

"You won't."

Twenty minutes later...

Amelia sat in the passenger seat of Adrian's black sedan.

Neither of them had spoken.

Not once.

She glanced sideways.

He was reading a report.

While the car was moving.

How?

Didn't people get motion sickness?

Apparently not Adrian Blackwood.

He simply turned another page.

Another.

Another.

The silence became unbearable.

"So..."

Nothing.

She cleared her throat.

"It's nice weather."

Nothing.

She looked out the window.

"...I'll stop talking now."

"You don't have to."

She turned.

His eyes never left the report.

"I simply don't have anything to add about the weather."

She frowned.

"Do you ever make small talk?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It's inefficient."

She stared at him.

"You think conversations are inefficient?"

"I think unnecessary conversations are."

"...You're unbelievable."

"So I've been told."

The car pulled into the driveway of a large estate.

It wasn't flashy.

It was old.

Elegant.

The kind of house that had witnessed generations.

Amelia followed Adrian toward the front door.

Before they reached it...

He stopped.

His expression changed.

Not softer.

Not warmer.

Just...

Guarded.

As though he'd put on invisible armor.

He looked at her for the first time since leaving the office.

"Whatever happens in this house..."

His voice was calm.

"...observe."

She nodded.

"Don't interfere."

"...Okay."

"Don't ask questions."

She hesitated.

"...Understood."

"If someone says something strange..."

He reached for the doorknob.

"...ignore it."

The door opened.

The smell hit her first.

Medicine.

Old books.

And something sweet.

Like vanilla candles.

An elderly housekeeper smiled warmly.

"Master Adrian."

He nodded once.

"Where is she?"

The woman's smile faded.

"In the sunroom."

"Has she eaten?"

"A little."

"Taken her medication?"

"...Eventually."

He closed his eyes for the briefest moment.

It was almost imperceptible.

Almost.

Then it was gone.

The sunroom overlooked an enormous garden.

A woman sat by the window.

Her silver hair had once been beautiful.

It still was.

Though now it fell carelessly around her shoulders.

She stared outside, humming quietly to herself.

She didn't notice them.

Not immediately.

"Mother."

Her humming stopped.

She slowly turned.

Her eyes lit up.

Not because she saw Adrian.

Because she didn't.

She smiled brightly.

"Daniel."

Amelia watched Adrian's jaw tighten.

The woman stood eagerly.

"I knew you'd come back."

She hurried toward him, her smile trembling.

"I'm sorry."

"I shouldn't have shouted."

"I made your favorite soup."

She reached up to touch his face.

"You've lost weight."

Adrian gently caught her wrist.

"It's me."

She laughed softly.

"Oh..."

Then looked at him again.

Really looked.

The smile disappeared.

"...Adrian."

"Yes."

Silence.

She stepped back.

"Oh."

She lowered her hand.

"I thought..."

"I know."

She turned away before anyone could see the tears in her eyes.

"I'll make more tea."

The housekeeper quietly followed her.

The room became painfully silent.

Amelia looked at Adrian.

He hadn't moved.

His face was expressionless.

But his hands...

Were clenched so tightly that the veins stood out against his skin.

She suddenly understood why he'd told her not to ask questions.

There were too many.

After several long moments, Adrian spoke.

Without looking at her.

"She has early-onset dementia."

Amelia's breath caught.

"I know what you're thinking."

She hadn't realized she'd been thinking anything at all.

"You're wondering why she called me Daniel."

He finally met her eyes.

"Daniel is my father."

"Oh..."

She immediately wished she hadn't said anything.

He looked away.

"Most days..."

His voice remained steady.

"...she remembers everything."

He paused.

"Today isn't one of those days."

The housekeeper returned with tea.

Mrs. Blackwood followed behind her, carrying a plate of biscuits.

She smiled shyly at Amelia.

"Oh..."

"I didn't see we had a guest."

Adrian spoke quietly.

"Mother."

"This is Amelia."

Mrs. Blackwood brightened.

"What a lovely girl."

She took Amelia's hands into hers.

"Are you married?"

Amelia laughed nervously.

"No."

"Oh."

Mrs. Blackwood smiled.

"My son works too much."

Adrian sighed.

"Mother..."

"He needs someone."

She patted Amelia's hand.

"Maybe you have a sister."

Amelia couldn't help smiling.

"I don't."

"What a shame."

For the first time since arriving...

Adrian looked genuinely embarrassed.

Tea passed quietly.

Mrs. Blackwood chatted about flowers.

The weather.

A television show she'd watched.

For a few beautiful minutes...

She seemed perfectly normal.

Then...

She looked toward the hallway.

"Has Daniel called?"

The room froze.

"No," Adrian answered.

She nodded slowly.

"He must still be angry."

Her voice became smaller.

"I'll apologize again."

Amelia saw it then.

The flash.

Not anger.

Not annoyance.

Pain.

Pure pain.

Adrian stood abruptly.

"We should go."

"But Daniel—"

"He isn't coming."

"He promised."

"He lied."

Mrs. Blackwood flinched.

"Don't."

She whispered.

"Don't speak about your father like that."

Adrian closed his eyes.

One long breath.

When he opened them again...

The walls were back up.

"We're leaving."

Without another word, he walked out.

Amelia quietly excused herself and followed.

The drive back was even quieter than before.

She wanted to say something.

Anything.

"I'm sorry."

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Adrian kept his eyes on the road.

"For what?"

"For today."

"You didn't cause today."

"No."

She looked out the window.

"But I wish I could've helped."

His hands tightened around the steering wheel.

Then, almost coldly, he said,

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

She turned to him.

"What does that mean?"

He didn't answer.

And for the rest of the drive...

His silence said everything he refused to explain.

CHAPTER SIX

The Wrong Kind of Kindness

Monday arrived with rain.

The kind that painted the city gray and made everyone walk a little faster.

Amelia stepped out of the elevator balancing an umbrella, a laptop bag, and two cups of coffee.

She had bought one for herself.

The other...

She wasn't sure why.

Maybe because Adrian had worked through lunch three days in a row.

Maybe because she'd noticed he always drank his coffee black.

Maybe because she felt sorry for him after meeting his mother.

Whatever the reason...

She placed the second cup carefully on the corner of his desk before he arrived.

No note.

No explanation.

Just coffee.

Then she hurried back to her own desk.

At exactly eight o'clock...

Adrian walked in.

He stopped.

His eyes fell on the cup.

Then on Amelia.

Neither of them spoke.

He picked it up.

Took one sip.

Placed it beside his laptop.

"Your report."

She quickly handed it over.

He scanned the first page.

"Page four."

She frowned.

"What about it?"

"You used a semicolon."

"...Yes?"

"It should've been a colon."

She blinked.

"...Seriously?"

He looked at her.

"It changes the meaning."

She wanted to argue.

Instead...

She took the report back.

"I'll correct it."

"Thank you."

That was it.

No mention of the coffee.

Not even a nod.

As he disappeared into his office, Amelia muttered under her breath,

"You're welcome."

Margaret heard her.

"He drank it."

"So?"

"He usually forgets coffee until it's cold."

Amelia shrugged.

"He still could've said thanks."

Margaret smiled knowingly.

"Mr. Blackwood doesn't say thank you."

"He doesn't?"

"Oh, he says it."

"When?"

Margaret chuckled.

"Not with words."

Amelia wasn't convinced.

The morning passed in a blur of meetings.

Just before noon, Adrian looked up from his tablet.

"Miss Hart."

"Yes, sir?"

"I'll be out for the afternoon."

She nodded.

"I'll handle the calls."

He paused.

"If anyone asks..."

He looked as though he wanted to say something.

Then simply said,

"...tell them I'm unavailable."

"Yes, sir."

He left.

As soon as the elevator doors closed...

Jenna appeared.

She had perfected the art of sneaking onto the executive floor.

"I brought lunch."

"You bribed security again?"

"They're underpaid."

Amelia laughed despite herself.

The two women sat in the break room overlooking the city.

"So..."

Jenna leaned forward.

"How's living with the Ice King?"

"I don't live with him."

"You know what I mean."

Amelia sighed.

"I don't understand him."

"No one does."

"He bought me lunch."

Jenna nearly choked on her juice.

"...What?"

"Well... Margaret said he did."

"Oh."

"Then he criticized my punctuation."

"There he is."

"And yesterday..."

Amelia hesitated.

"I met his mother."

Jenna's smile faded.

"You did?"

Amelia nodded.

"She's... not well."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure."

"But she keeps asking for her husband."

Jenna frowned.

"I've never heard anyone mention Mr. Blackwood's father."

"Neither have I."

Amelia stirred her soup absentmindedly.

"It just..."

"What?"

"It feels wrong."

"What does?"

"If she's asking for him all the time..."

She looked out the window.

"Why won't Adrian let them see each other?"

Unknown to either of them...

Margaret had just walked past the break room.

She stopped.

Her hand tightened around the folder she carried.

She quietly walked away.

That evening...

Adrian returned later than usual.

His tie hung loosely around his neck.

His sleeves were rolled up.

He looked exhausted.

Without a word, he walked into his office.

A few minutes later—

"Miss Hart."

She entered.

"You wanted to see me?"

He handed her a folder.

"I need these organized before tomorrow."

She took it.

As she turned to leave...

She stopped.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

She hesitated.

She remembered her father.

All the things she never said.

Maybe...

Maybe someone should say something before it was too late.

"I hope you don't mind me asking..."

"I probably will."

She smiled awkwardly.

"...Your mother misses your father."

Silence.

"I noticed."

Another silence.

Longer this time.

"Have you ever considered..."

She swallowed.

"...letting them see each other?"

The room became unbearably still.

Adrian didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Didn't even breathe, it seemed.

When he finally spoke...

His voice was frighteningly calm.

"Who told you to ask me that?"

"No one."

"Margaret?"

"No."

"My mother?"

"I just..."

He stood.

Slowly.

Every instinct in Amelia screamed at her to leave.

"You've known me..."

He took one measured step toward her.

"...for exactly six days."

Another step.

"You've met my mother..."

"...once."

Another.

"And somehow..."

He stopped just in front of her.

"...you've concluded you understand my family."

"I didn't mean—"

"No."

His voice remained level.

"You didn't."

She lowered her eyes.

"I was only trying to help."

"I know."

Those three words hurt more than anger.

"That," he continued quietly,

"...is precisely the problem."

She looked up.

He wasn't furious.

He looked...

Disappointed.

"Compassion without understanding can become cruelty."

She stared at him.

"I don't..."

"You will."

He walked back behind his desk.

"The folder."

She looked down.

She had almost forgotten she was holding it.

"You may leave."

She nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

She closed the door behind her.

Margaret looked at her with gentle concern.

"You asked about his father."

It wasn't a question.

Amelia nodded miserably.

"I thought..."

Margaret sighed.

"I know."

"I only wanted to help."

Margaret rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Some wounds are like broken glass, dear."

"You don't heal them..."

"...by reaching in with your bare hands."

Inside his office...

Adrian remained standing by the window.

The city lights blurred beyond the rain-streaked glass.

He wasn't angry.

Not really.

He was tired.

So tired.

He closed his eyes.

For just a second...

He saw his mother's bruised face.

He heard a little boy screaming.

He smelled whiskey.

Then—

A gentle knock.

Margaret entered without waiting.

"You were hard on her."

Adrian didn't answer.

"She reminds me of someone."

He finally spoke.

Margaret already knew who.

"...Your mother."

He nodded once.

"She believes kindness can save everyone."

He looked down at the untouched coffee cup Amelia had brought that morning.

His voice dropped to almost a whisper.

"It can't."

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Name No One Says

The next morning, Amelia arrived fifteen minutes early.

Not because she had work to finish.

Because she needed time to decide how to behave.

She set her bag beneath her desk.

Turned on her computer.

Checked her calendar.

Organized the files on Adrian's desk.

Then she stopped.

She had automatically reached for the coffee she'd bought on the way in.

She stared at it.

After a moment's hesitation...

She picked it up and took a sip herself.

"No more coffee deliveries," she whispered.

"No more advice."

"No more trying to fix people."

She nodded to herself.

"Professional."

At exactly eight o'clock...

Adrian stepped out of the elevator.

His eyes swept across the reception area.

For the briefest moment...

They rested on the empty corner of his desk.

Then moved on.

He walked past Amelia.

"Good morning, sir."

He inclined his head.

"Morning."

She blinked.

He had never answered before.

She glanced around to see if anyone else had heard it.

Margaret had.

She hid a smile behind a folder.

The morning passed quietly.

Emails.

Conference calls.

Budgets.

A video meeting with investors in Singapore.

Adrian spoke for almost forty minutes.

His voice remained calm.

Measured.

Confident.

The moment the call ended—

He became silent again.

It fascinated Amelia.

It was as though every word he spoke was calculated.

Nothing wasted.

Nothing careless.

At noon...

Margaret placed another folder on Amelia's desk.

"Can you archive these?"

"Of course."

The files were old.

Very old.

Company records dating back almost twenty years.

As Amelia sorted them alphabetically, one folder caught her attention.

BLACKWOOD, DANIEL

She paused.

The name felt oddly familiar.

Then she remembered.

Daniel.

His father.

The name Mrs. Blackwood had whispered with so much hope.

She quickly looked away.

She wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

She slid the folder back into the cabinet without opening it.

"Good."

The voice came from behind her.

She turned so quickly she nearly dropped the entire stack.

Adrian stood in the doorway.

"I..."

"I was just filing—"

"I saw."

He looked toward the cabinet.

"You didn't open it."

She frowned.

"I didn't think it was my place."

A long silence followed.

Then...

"It isn't."

He turned and walked away.

Amelia watched him disappear into his office.

That almost sounded like...

Approval.

Almost.

Around three o'clock...

The intercom buzzed.

Margaret answered.

"Executive floor."

The color drained from her face.

"...He's here?"

Amelia looked up.

Margaret's voice became unusually tense.

"No."

"He doesn't have an appointment."

Another pause.

"I understand."

She slowly lowered the receiver.

"What happened?" Amelia asked.

Margaret looked toward Adrian's office.

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"You'll find out soon enough."

Five minutes later...

The private elevator chimed.

Not the employee elevator.

The executive one.

Its doors slid open.

A man stepped out.

He looked to be in his early sixties.

Tall.

Expensively dressed.

Silver streaks through neatly combed dark hair.

His posture radiated confidence.

No...

Not confidence.

Entitlement.

He walked as though every room already belonged to him.

The security officers who had accompanied him stopped a respectful distance away.

One of them quietly said,

"Sir, we explained that Mr. Blackwood isn't receiving visitors."

The man smiled.

"Then explain it again."

His voice was smooth.

Pleasant.

Dangerously pleasant.

"I'll wait."

Margaret stood.

"Mr. Blackwood."

He smiled at her warmly.

"Margaret."

"You shouldn't be here."

"I know."

He looked around.

"The place hasn't changed."

His gaze landed on Amelia.

He smiled.

"And who might this be?"

Before she could answer—

Adrian's office door opened.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Neither man spoke.

For several seconds...

Father and son simply looked at one another.

They had the same eyes.

The same height.

The same controlled posture.

The difference was in their expressions.

Daniel smiled.

Adrian didn't.

"I asked security not to let you in."

Daniel slipped his hands into his pockets.

"They tried."

"You've seen the building."

"You've seen me."

"You can leave."

Daniel chuckled.

"Always straight to business."

Adrian said nothing.

Daniel looked around the office.

"I remember choosing these windows."

Silence.

"You changed the furniture."

Silence.

"I liked the old desk better."

Silence.

Daniel laughed softly.

"You've become just like me."

Something flashed across Adrian's face.

Gone almost instantly.

"If that were true..."

His voice remained calm.

"...I wouldn't still be standing here."

Margaret closed her eyes.

She'd heard this conversation before.

Too many times.

Daniel sighed dramatically.

"I came to invite you to dinner."

"No."

"Your mother misses me."

"No."

"You don't have the right to decide that."

"No."

Amelia had never heard anyone fit so much emotion into one word.

It wasn't loud.

It wasn't angry.

It was final.

Daniel's smile faded for the first time.

"You've punished me long enough."

Adrian took one slow step forward.

"I've only just begun."

The office fell silent.

Daniel looked at his son for a long moment.

Then his smile returned.

It was smaller now.

Sharper.

"You've always had your mother's heart."

"And you've never had one."

For the first time...

Daniel's eyes hardened.

Just for a second.

Then they softened again.

He adjusted his cufflinks.

"I'll come back next week."

"No."

"The week after?"

"No."

"You know I don't give up easily."

"I know."

Adrian held his father's gaze.

"That's the only reason you're still alive."

The words were spoken so quietly that Amelia wasn't even sure she'd heard them correctly.

Daniel's smile didn't falter.

But something cold passed between them.

Something old.

Something dangerous.

Without another word, Daniel turned and walked toward the elevator.

Just before the doors closed, he looked back at Amelia.

Their eyes met.

He smiled politely.

"Take good care of my son."

Then he was gone.

The elevator doors closed with a soft chime.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Finally...

Adrian looked at Margaret.

"Cancel my remaining meetings."

"Yes, sir."

He turned toward his office.

As he passed Amelia's desk, he paused.

Without looking at her, he said quietly,

"If he ever speaks to you again..."

She looked up.

"...Tell security."

He disappeared into his office.

The door clicked shut.

Amelia remained frozen in her chair.

She replayed the conversation over and over.

Daniel had been charming.

Calm.