Chapter 8 (Third Person POV)
The sleek black car rolled to a smooth stop just outside the tall wrought-iron gate of the Kensington townhouse. Hailey glanced toward the house, then back at Alex, who sat silently in the driver's seat, his fingers drumming once on the wheel before stilling again.
"You can drop me here," she said quickly, not wanting her mother to see her step out of a car like that, with a man like him. "The gardener's around. I'll be fine."
Alex looked at her for a moment, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Alright," he said, voice low. "Take care, Hailey."
She nodded, lips twitching into a nervous smile. "Thanks… for the ride."
As she climbed out, her fingers clutched the strap of her bag a little too tightly. The gate clicked shut behind her, and she didn't look back. Not even once.
The morning air was still crisp, the chill brushing her cheeks as she stepped onto the path that led to the house. To her left, the gardener—an older man named Robert who had worked with the family for years—was bent over a bed of lavender, watering the base with slow, practiced care.
"Morning, Robert," she called out softly.
He straightened up, blinking under the brim of his sun hat. "Miss Hailey," he greeted with a kind smile. "Back early, aren't you?"
Hailey offered a small, sheepish grin. "Yeah… you know. Parties aren't really my thing."
Robert chuckled. "Well, good on you. You always did prefer your quiet corners."
She nodded and slipped past him, her heart thudding again—not from nerves this time, but from something else entirely. The thought of Alex's voice still lingered in her ears, smooth and deliberate.
The front door creaked slightly as she pushed it open. The familiar scent of coffee and warm bread drifted toward her, mingled with the faintest hint of rosewater—her mother's favorite.
Hailey stepped inside slowly, trying not to make a sound. Her shoes clicked softly against the floorboards. She could hear the faint clatter of dishes in the kitchen. Maybe, if she moved quickly enough, she could make it upstairs unnoticed.
She was halfway past the kitchen door when—
"Hailey?"
She winced, froze, and then turned around slowly.
Her mother stood by the island counter, wearing her usual pale silk robe, a spatula in one hand and her phone in the other. Her face lit up with a smile—not the annoyed frown or lecture Hailey had expected.
"Oh. Good morning," Hailey said, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear and walking in.
"Good morning? It's nearly eight-thirty!" Mary teased, putting the spatula down. "How was the party?"
There it was—the moment Hailey had been dreading. She blinked, caught off guard by the tone in her mother's voice. Not angry. Not even suspicious. Just… excited. Cheerful.
"It was fine," Hailey said, trying to sound casual as she walked over to the counter and leaned her tote against the stool. "Really fun."
Mary raised a brow, clearly pleased. "Did you make any friends?"
Hailey hesitated. Just a beat too long.
"Yes," she said finally, nodding. "A few."
"Oh, good!" her mother beamed. "You need people your age around you again, especially now that you've started your new school. I've been telling your father—ha! He worries too much, you know."
Hailey chuckled weakly. Her mom's energy felt like a warm bath she hadn't prepared for—comforting, but suffocating in its intensity.
"Did you meet anyone interesting?" Mary added, with a knowing tilt of her head.
Hailey's heart did a backflip.
Interesting.
The image of Mr. Blackwood—Alex—flashed through her mind. The way he'd smiled that morning, the way he'd looked at her in the study, the way her heart had thundered when his hand brushed her shoulder.
But she shoved the thought down. Hard.
"No," she said quickly, too quickly. "Not really. Just some classmates."
Mary's eyes lingered on her a moment longer than comfortable, but then she smiled again and turned back to the stove.
"Well, that's a start," she said cheerfully. "And it's Saturday. Your father took your brother to the club for tennis, so it's just us for breakfast. Go get changed, alright? I'm making your favorite—sourdough toast with avocado and poached eggs."
Hailey nodded, grateful for the out. "Okay. Be back in five."
As she left the kitchen, her heart was still racing. Not because she'd lied—well, okay, partly because of that—but mostly because she had thought about Alex. Not the party. Not some classmate she didn't care to name.
She thought of him.
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Hailey padded up the stairs, her fingers still clutching the strap of her tote bag as she slipped into her bedroom and quietly shut the door behind her.
The room was bathed in soft morning light, filtered through gauzy curtains that fluttered in the faint breeze from the open window. She tossed her bag onto the bed, pausing for a moment to breathe.
The house felt so peaceful now, almost like the calm before something big.
She peeled off her hoodie and tossed it onto the chair by her desk, then pulled open her closet. Her usual go-to was something comfortable, but her mother would definitely comment if she showed up at the table in yesterday's wrinkled jeans and a baggy T-shirt. With a sigh, Hailey slipped into a soft blue knit sweater and a pair of fitted cream lounge pants—simple, clean, effortless.
She brushed out her hair and twisted it into a low ponytail, just neat enough to pass her mom's standard. After splashing some water on her face and dabbing on a bit of lip balm, she took a final glance in the mirror.
"Presentable," she mumbled to herself. "Let's survive breakfast."
As she descended the stairs, the aroma of eggs and toasted sourdough wrapped around her like a warm hug. Her mom had already set the table with fine china and polished cutlery—as if they were expecting guests. Hailey slid into her usual seat, across from where her dad usually sat when he wasn't caught up with meetings or phone calls.
Mary turned from the stove, carrying over a plate with perfectly poached eggs and a half-sliced avocado seasoned just the way Hailey liked.
"I forgot how serious you are about breakfast," Hailey said with a soft smile as her mom placed the plate in front of her.
"Well, Saturday mornings deserve some ceremony," Mary replied, pouring herself a cup of coffee before sitting down. "Besides, it's nice having you back home."
Hailey picked up her fork and hesitated for just a second before asking, "Hey… what about Victor? Is he still away on that business trip?"
Her mother brightened. "Oh yes! He's flying in today. Should be back around 3:00 p.m. if everything goes smoothly."
Hailey's heart lifted a little. "Seriously? That's great."
She hadn't seen Victor since she arrived. Their schedules never seemed to line up, and he'd already been gone when she flew in from New York. The house had felt just a bit too quiet without him.
Victor was… different. Protective in a way Michael never quite was. He didn't argue or nag or try to act like he had authority over her like most older brothers might. He just was. Calm, thoughtful, intimidating when he needed to be—but always steady.
Hailey remembered being eight years old and terrified when she first moved to London. Everything had felt foreign, even her own family. But Victor… Victor had sat beside her that first night on the steps outside the townhouse, not saying much. He'd just handed her a mug of cocoa and stayed there until she fell asleep on his shoulder.
Michael had always been louder, more impulsive. Their fights were legendary growing up—broken toys, slammed doors, cold silences. But Victor? He didn't yell. He just gave a look, and suddenly Michael backed off.
Even now, the thought of him made her feel oddly… safe.
Mary sipped her coffee, watching her over the rim of her cup. "He's been asking about you, you know. He was disappointed to miss your arrival."
"I missed him too," Hailey admitted, spearing a piece of avocado with her fork. "It's been forever."
"He's been working very hard these past few months. You know how Victor is—focused, serious, very… discreet."
Hailey laughed softly. "Yeah, that sounds like him."
Her mom tilted her head with a gentle smile. "He'll be happy to see you. Maybe the two of you can catch up properly this weekend."
"I'd like that."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the kind that only exists between people who knew each other for years. Hailey could still feel the echo of Alex's voice in her mind, but here, now, she focused on her mother's warmth, the safety of the kitchen, and the anticipation of seeing her older brother again.
Part of her almost wished things could stay like this—simple, easy. But a different part of her, the one that had been awakened the night before in a dark hallway and a stranger's gaze, knew better.
The world was changing around her, and something about this return to London—about Alex, about her family, about herself—felt like a story that was only just beginning.