A Slip of the Tongue

Hazel let go of her small tote bag and carefully leaned forward on her crutches, offering the trembling boy a warm, reassuring smile. "Of course I will see you again. I left my number for you. Call me whenever you miss me, Eddie. I promise I will make time to come see you."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire."

Hazel lowered herself into a crouch. The movement took considerable exertion with her injured leg. She tenderly tousled Edward's soft hair once she was at his eye level. "Yes, pants on fire. I mean it."

Edward beamed adorably at her promise and leaned forward to plant a wet peck on her cheek.

A few feet away, the towering, unreadable man frowned.

"I really have to go now," Hazel told Edward with a lingering look of affection.

"Okay, Mommy. Don't run, or you might fall!" Edward called after her sweetly. The boy firmly refused to stop calling her that, even after a full week of correction. Whenever Hazel tried to set the record straight, Edward would dissolve into sheer panic, his big eyes turning red and welling with tears as if she were abandoning him forever. Hazel had quickly learned to swallow her protests, assuming he would understand when he was older.

She limped out of her hospital ward alone. Her crutch clicked rhythmically against the pristine floor tiles. Clayton followed quietly behind her. She considered stopping him and telling him to leave her be more than once during the walk to the lobby, but she held her tongue.

"Mr. Caldwell, you don't need to—" Hazel stopped just short of the hospital's main entrance.

He walked right past her without a word. He stepped up to the sleek black Maybach parked directly by the curb and opened the passenger door like a seasoned gentleman.

"I will give you a ride home," he stated.

"I shouldn't trouble you. I can get a cab by myself."

"I have a car."

Hazel stared at his deadpan expression, wondering if that was supposed to be a flex.

"It is no trouble," Clayton added smoothly.

Hazel constantly struggled to converse with this man, but she finally gave in. He possessed some mystical, overbearing aura that derailed all her attempts at refusal. Arguing further would only waste her time and energy.

She maneuvered herself into the luxurious leather seat. Clayton shut the door behind her and swiftly rounded the hood to slide into the back seat beside her.

"Where exactly do you live, Ms. Winslow?" Clayton asked as he instructed his driver to move.

"Alden Garden," she replied curtly, having never stepped foot back into the Winslow Mansion since returning to the country. Her so-called biological family could not care less about her whereabouts anyway.

Clayton gave his chauffeur a subtle nod. The driver understandingly merged the quiet Maybach into the city traffic.

Without warning, Clayton leaned across the plush seat toward Hazel.

Her breath hitched. A spike of alarm shot through her system. He had always maintained an impeccable physical distance in the hospital room, projecting that aloof, untouchable image. Now, his broad shoulders easily dwarfed her smaller frame, caging her against the seat. His crisp, expensive cologne flooded her senses.

Hazel sat frozen in stunned silence as he reached past her waist, grabbed the seatbelt buckle, and pulled it firmly across her lap to snap it into place.

"You don't have to clench your fists, Ms. Winslow," Clayton noted evenly, sitting back into his own space.

Hazel snapped her gaze down, not even realizing her fingernails were digging into her palms.

"Do not worry. I am not the type of man to sleep around," Clayton added, letting the awkward tension balloon inside the cabin.

"How did you end up with a kid if you really are that disciplined?" she blurted out, her regret flooding almost instantly as her caution flew out the window. She was not close enough to this intimidating billionaire to throw casual jabs about his private life, let alone his child's origin.

Clayton finally broke the silence, his voice carrying a frigid edge. "It was against my will."

"I guess she is quite assertive," Hazel replied, attempting to play along with what she assumed was a dark joke.

Clayton gave a curt nod, his dark eyes darting back to her face, assessing her reaction. "She was on that day."

"And? How did you two end up separated? Why did Eddie's mother leave?" Hazel asked gently, a morbid curiosity flaring inside her.

"She does not like me."

"If she dislikes you, why would she even bear your child? That makes zero sense," Hazel asked, her jaw dropping at the thought of a woman dumping a man as devoted and wealthy as him.

Clayton stared straight ahead, every syllable dripping with a terrifying chill. "She never wanted Eddie. She was actually going to abandon him the moment she delivered him."

A phantom blade sliced right through Hazel’s chest. She pictured the sweet, tender little boy who had just cried over her departure. She imagined a tiny, defenseless, newborn Edward being chucked aside like worthless garbage by a heartless woman without an ounce of human sentiment. The sheer cruelty of it made her blood boil.

"What a monster. It is perfectly right to separate yourself from a woman like her. A child deserves far better than a cold, selfish coward," Hazel spat, her voice laced with venom.

Clayton pursed his lips. He stared fixedly at her face, his gaze burning intensely as if searching for a crack in her expression.

Hazel awkwardly raised a hand to touch her own cheek. "Mr. Caldwell? Is there something on my face?"

Clayton abruptly turned his head away. He presented the back of his head to her and did not utter a single word for the remaining duration of the journey.

Hazel narrowed her eyes at his profile. The man was incredibly volatile. However, she figured her aggressive condemnation of his toxic past relationship might have triggered some unpleasant memories. It made enough sense that he would withdraw into a foul mood.

A thick, suffocating silence blanketed the car until the driver finally braked smoothly in front of Hazel's apartment building.

"Thank you for the ride," Hazel said, keeping her tone crisp as she gathered her purse and crutches.

Clayton gave a stiff nod. "Take care, Ms. Winslow."

"Goodbye," Hazel replied, pushing the car door open and stepping out into the fresh air. A wave of profound relief washed over her. She had secretly dreaded the possibility that Clayton would insist on escorting her all the way up to her door. Still, providing the ride had shown an uncharacteristic level of consideration. She caught herself feeling far less wary of him, even though survival instincts dictated she should stay heavily guarded around men like Clayton Caldwell.

Hazel limped away, her silhouette gradually shrinking in the distance.

Inside the Maybach, the chauffeur cleared his throat softly. "Sir? Should we head to the manor now?"

Clayton did not answer immediately. Next to him, his sleek cell phone began to vibrate, emitting a persistent ringing sound that filled the quiet cabin.

"Grandpa," Clayton answered after tapping the screen, his expression shifting back into a mask of pure ice.

"Isn't Eddie getting discharged from the hospital today? Why isn't my great-grandson here yet?" Oscar Caldwell’s gruff, demanding voice boomed through the phone speaker.

"We will arrive soon. But I must be crystal clear with you right now. We won't be staying at the manor tonight, nor any other night," Clayton replied flatly.

"Why the hell not?" Oscar sounded furious.

Clayton delivered the verdict flawlessly, leaving zero room for negotiation. "Eddie is highly introverted and sensitive. He does not like having crowds of loud strangers hovering around him in big houses. I will bring him over so you can meet him, and then I will leave with him."

A heavy sigh echoed through the receiver as Oscar offered his final, grudging compromise. "At least have dinner at the estate before you drag the boy away."

"Sure," Clayton agreed, tapping the button to end the call and tossing his phone onto the empty passenger seat.

He rarely returned to Alden City following the tragic death of his parents years ago. He absolutely loathed the suffocating politics of the Caldwell family. Truth be told, he would not have returned to this city at all if his stubborn grandfather had not ruthlessly coerced him by weaponizing his declining health and mortality.

However, a faint, almost invisible smirk tugged at the corner of Clayton's mouth as he thought back to the fiery indignation in Hazel's eyes. If Oscar had not forced his hand, he probably would never have crossed paths with her again.

Monday morning arrived with a clear, vivid blue sky overlooking Alden City.

Hazel stood in front of her mirror, finalizing her armor. She slipped into a sharp, tailored black business suit and applied a layer of light, understated makeup that accentuated her sharp features. She let her silky, dark hair fall effortlessly over her shoulders in soft waves. Even though she still firmly gripped the silver crutches beneath her arms, the metal frames did nothing to diminish her imposing, weathered beauty.

Her legal counsel, Philip Bates, stood waiting near the elevator bank as she approached. Together, they made their way directly downtown to the towering headquarters of Zenith Group.

The moment Hazel stepped through the expansive glass doors of the lobby, the atmosphere shifted. Hushed whispers rippled among the passing employees.

"Ms. Winslow. It is good to see you," a sharply dressed man greeted, practically jogging over to intercept them by the front desk.

"Mr. Cole," Hazel offered a polite nod.

Robert Cole was the current deputy general manager of Zenith Group. More importantly, he had been one of her late mother's most loyal and trusted employees. When Arthur ruthlessly seized control of the fashion empire following her mother's death, he executed a massive corporate purge. Robert had been the sole survivor of that vicious restructuring. His enduring position and silent influence within Zenith's walls went without saying.

"Let's head immediately up to the executive floor, Mr. Cole. I have work to do," Hazel stated without missing a beat, adjusting her grip on her crutches.

"Actually, Ms. Winslow, there is a serious complication regarding today," Robert replied, a deep line of panic creasing his forehead.

"Speak plainly, Robert," Hazel demanded, halting her forward momentum.

Robert explained his discovery in a low, urgent voice. "I just received the corporate memo when I clocked in this morning. The board chairman... I mean, your father, is officially appointing Gwen Winslow as the new CEO of Zenith Group. He is signing over full, unmitigated authority over all company affairs to her. They are actually holding the succession ceremony in the main conference room right now."

Hazel's grip on the crutch handles tightened until her knuckles turned bone-white. Arthur and his precious golden daughter were even more shameless and despicable than she had calculated. They were trying to bypass her legal rights and finalize the takeover before she could strike.

Hazel loosened her grip on the crutches and smoothed out the front of her black blazer, letting a slow, chillingly calm smirk curl upon her lips as the heavy dramatic irony settled deep into her bones. "It doesn't matter. Take me to the conference room."