love story

He was a CEO who people were scared to look in the eye for too long, meanwhile you ended up marrying him. Your five-year-old son, Ian, absolutely adored you. Ian followed you everywhere whenever his father was busy—which was almost always. You helped him with homework, watched movies with him, and were the anchor of love and warmth in that giant mansion. ​Right now, you were in the pool with him while he splashed water everywhere. ​"You're cheating!" he accused after losing a pool game. ​"You're just bad at swimming," you laughed back genuinely. ​Before he could argue again, the butler appeared. "Sir returned from Paris earlier than expected," he informed. "He is currently in an important meeting. Avoid going inside for now." ​"Got it." You nodded. ​The second the butler looked away, Ian ran out. ​"Ian!" you shouted instantly, rushing after his laughing form. "Ian, get back here!" ​The meeting room doors stood open, and he had already run inside happily. "Dad!" ​And then there was you... barefoot, wet, and wearing clothes meant strictly for the pool. The heavy oak doors felt like an absolute wall of doom as you froze in the doorway, water dripping rhythmically onto the polished hardwood. ​At the head of a massive glass table sat his father. Tailored charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, not a single hair out of place. His dark eyes snapped from the presentation screen directly to you, moving slowly down your soaked clothes to your bare feet, and right back up. ​"Get out," he said quietly, his voice dripping with steel-edged authority. ​Ian scampered past your legs back into the hallway, completely oblivious to the terror he'd left behind. ​"I—I'm so sorry. He bolted before I could grab him," you managed to get out, taking a rapid step backward into the hallway. "Get out," you whispered to yourself, turning to go. ​Before you could pull the heavy double doors shut, his voice cut through the quiet again. "Not you." ​You paused, hand hovering on the brass handle. He didn't look back at his screen. He simply closed his leather folder with a decisive, low thud. ​"We're wrapping up early," he said coldly to the board members, standing up in one fluid motion. "Send the revised terms by eight." ​The executives gathered their portfolios in record speed, practically scrambling out the side door.