The Boy's Business Mind

After officially securing a leave of absence from Tessa, Sylvie finally had the time and mental space to dedicate herself entirely to her new responsibility. She needed to pour all her energy into coaxing Hayes out of the dark shadow of his autism. The situation with Muriel and Clive Garrick last night had been a wake-up call, and knowing Aria was now safely tucked away in Tessa’s house lifted a massive weight off her shoulders. With her daughter safe, she could focus wholeheartedly on the little boy who desperately needed her help.

The next morning, right after dropping Aria off at the kindergarten, Sylvie headed straight to the Sterling residence.

It was exactly half past seven when she arrived at the sprawling villa. The morning air was crisp and refreshing, filled with the faint, sweet fragrance of blooming flowers from the manicured gardens. The distant sound of birds chirping broke the silence of the estate. The atmosphere was incredibly quiet, almost serene, a stark contrast to the chaotic night she had just survived.

Sylvie stepped through the grand entryway, assuming the household would still be waking up. Instead, she found Julian already seated at the expansive dining table, calmly sipping his morning coffee. He was dressed impeccably, a tailored dark suit hugging his broad shoulders. His every movement, from the way he held the porcelain cup to the posture of his back, was filled with the innate nobility of the upper-class society.

Hearing her footsteps, Julian lowered his coffee mug. His dark eyes narrowed slightly as they locked onto her figure. They had not set a specific arrival time last night, yet here she was, early and eager.

"There is a list of Hayes’s preferences and taboos on the table," Julian instructed coldly, his deep voice slicing through the tranquil morning air. He gestured toward a sleek notebook resting on the edge of the mahogany table. "Read them carefully and make sure that you do not make any mistakes."

"Oh, okay," Sylvie nodded immediately, stepping forward to pick up the notebook.

She flipped open the cover. Written inside, in crisp and clear handwriting, was a detailed list of what Hayes liked and disliked. There were a total of ten specific items, outlining his daily habits and strict boundaries.

"No problem," Sylvie said, tracing the lines of text with her finger. "I’ll remember all of them, and I’ll take good care of Hayes."

Julian did not offer a word of encouragement. He set his coffee mug down with a soft clink and stood up, his tall frame towering in the dining area. "You can contact Elias Rowe if you need anything."

After delivering those cold, detached words, Julian turned on his heel and left the villa in a dignified hurry. He was undoubtedly heading straight to his corporate empire for work.

Sylvie stood in the dining room and heaved a heavy sigh of relief. The sheer pressure of his presence was suffocating. She knew she would feel much more comfortable doing her job with him out of the house.

Waiting a few moments until the sound of his car engine disappeared down the driveway, Sylvie made her way upstairs and headed straight for Hayes’s bedroom. She pushed the heavy door open gently.

"Hayes, I am here."

The little boy was already awake. He sat up in the center of his large bed, and the moment his eyes landed on Sylvie, they lit up with genuine warmth. He practically scrambled out from under the quilt, sitting on the edge of the mattress and gesturing eagerly for her to come over and dress him.

Sylvie chuckled softly. He really was a little slacker in the mornings.

She walked over to the massive built-in closet and pulled the sleek handles open. The moment she saw the interior, her face froze in sheer shock. Her hand lingered on the door handle as she stared at the contents.

Row upon row of garments hung in perfect, oppressive order. There were miniature shirts, tailored trousers, and tiny formal suits. But the color—or rather, the lack of it—was what horrified her. Everything in the closet was strictly black. Even when she pulled open the bottom compartment to check for accessories, she found rows of neatly folded socks that were also entirely black.

Was this really what a three-year-old child should be wearing?

"Hayes," Sylvie turned to look at the boy, her heart sinking. "Don’t you have any other clothes?"

Hayes stared back at her and simply shook his head.

Sylvie fell silent, a wave of sadness washing over her. She thought about Aria’s side of the closet back home. Her daughter had grown up wearing a variety of clothes in different styles, covered in bright pinks, sunny yellows, and soft blues. It was the same for every other child she had ever seen at the kindergarten. But this little boy lived in a world devoid of color. It was no wonder he had such a bleak, depressing personality when his daily life was wrapped in such heavy shades.

"You can wear this first," Sylvie sighed softly, pulling out a set of dark clothes. "I will bring you to buy new clothes when the time comes."

Hayes nodded obediently. He allowed her to dress him, moving through the motions without a single sound.

After he was dressed and washed up, they headed downstairs for breakfast. The morning routine passed in absolute silence. Once they finished eating, they moved into the study so Hayes could read his picture books. From the moment she arrived to the moment he sat down at the heavy oak desk, Hayes had not spoken a single word to her.

Sylvie watched him turn a page. How could his condition possibly improve if things went on like this? She needed to break the silence.

An idea sparked in her mind. She walked over and leaned down across the desk, making sure she was right at his eye level. "Hayes, let’s play a game! You can’t say no and you will get a reward when you answer correctly."

Hayes paused, looking up from his book.

"If you are a poor person, which option will you choose?" Sylvie asked, her tone bright and encouraging. "A fishing rod or a basket of fish?"

Hayes blinked. He clearly had not expected a riddle game this early in the morning. He stared at her for a long moment, pursing his lips as he thought it over. Finally, he opened his mouth.

"A basket of fish."

Sylvie’s heart soared. She was absolutely thrilled just to hear his voice again. It was incredibly rare for him to speak voluntarily.

"You got it wrong!" she explained gently, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Instead of accepting a basket of fish, wouldn’t it be better to learn how to fish? You will have nothing left after you finish eating your basket of fish. But if you have a fishing rod, you can continue catching a lot more fish. It means you will never go hungry."

Hayes listened to her explanation, his small eyebrows pulling together in a slight frown. He looked at her, his expression turning cool and analytical.

"But if I were to sell the basket of fish, I can buy many fishing rods," Hayes replied smoothly. "After that, I can rent the fishing rods to others and collect rental fees from them. After that, I will continue buying new fishing rods after collecting the fees, and I can use these rods to fish or rent them again. I will repeat it over and over again. Isn’t it better for me to be making money every day?"

Sylvie stood frozen by the desk, her mouth slightly parted in profound, jaw-dropping astonishment.

He could actually do that?

A flawless, impenetrable capitalist loop, coming from the mouth of a three-year-old child. She realized in that exact moment that Hayes had genetically inherited Julian's terrifyingly sharp, formidable business mind. There was no other explanation for such ruthless logic.

Sylvie was utterly convinced by his answer, yet entirely bewildered by the boy sitting in front of her. She stared down at his calm, collected face, unable to hold back the burning question in her mind.

"Hayes, you can speak fluently and perfectly, so why don’t you usually speak then?"