"Mom, is Dad still out jogging?" Lucas asked, glancing at his watch as he walked into the dining room. His tone was casual, but the tension in his shoulders suggested he had something else on his mind.
As if on cue, the front door opened, and his father, Thomas Zeller, stepped in, wearing his usual gray tracksuit. He was breathing heavily but smiling, his cheeks slightly flushed from exertion.
"Speak of the devil!" Helen Zeller chuckled, ladling out a bowl of oatmeal for her husband. She moved with practiced ease in the kitchen, the familiar clinking of utensils filling the cozy dining space. "I swear, you two are so synchronized."
Lucas gave a faint smirk but didn't respond. He watched his father sit down at the table and grab a glass of water, his movements steady despite the workout. Thomas's gaze briefly flicked to his son before settling into a routine silence.
"Lucas, it's not like you to still be here this late. Don't you have work?" Thomas's deep voice broke the quiet, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he addressed his son.
Lucas leaned back in his chair, casually flipping through a newspaper. "I'll head out after I finish reading this news piece." His tone was smooth, but his mother's raised eyebrow suggested she wasn't buying it.
Thomas's skeptical glance landed on the newspaper in Lucas's hands. "Oh really? Since when did the newspaper have to be read… upside down?"
All heads turned to look at Lucas's paper, indeed held upside down. There was a beat of silence before laughter erupted around the table. Helen's laugh was the loudest, her hand on her chest as she leaned into the counter for support. Even Claire, who had been quietly sipping her tea, stifled a giggle behind her hand.
Lucas's lips twitched in annoyance as he quickly flipped the paper right side up, feigning calm. "Mom, maybe you shouldn't laugh so hard. It's Sarah—plenty of flies around." He stood abruptly, adjusting his jacket as he prepared to leave. "I'll head out before I'm actually late."
As he made for the door, Helen called after him, her voice tinged with a mix of authority and warmth. "Take Claire along, Lucas."
He stopped, his hand on the doorframe, and glanced back over his shoulder just in time to catch the slight stiffness in Claire's posture. Her teacup trembled slightly as she set it down on its saucer.
"Claire just graduated and is looking for work. Don't you have a few open positions at your office?" Helen continued, her tone so casual that it belied the clear expectation in her words.
Lucas turned fully, his expression unreadable. "Mom, since when do you run HR at my firm?"
His mind raced with reasons to avoid this arrangement. Claire knew about his medical condition now, a private matter he'd gone to great lengths to keep hidden from his professional life. Bringing her into his office would be like placing a ticking time bomb in the middle of a minefield.
Helen's gentle tone sharpened ever so slightly. "Lucas, what's that supposed to mean?"
Thomas raised an eyebrow at his wife, who rarely allowed her motherly charm to take on a steely edge. He shot Lucas a sympathetic look but didn't intervene.
Claire stood up, her polite smile masking the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Don't worry about it, Helen," she said, addressing the older woman directly and avoiding Lucas's gaze. "I don't want to trouble you, Mr. Zeller. I'll find a job on my own." Her voice was calm, but the slight tremor betrayed her unease.
Lucas froze at the sound of her words. *Mr. Zeller?* Since when did she call him *Mr. Zeller?* His eyes narrowed slightly, annoyance flickering across his face.
She had been clingy enough to practically hold him hostage all night, and now she was addressing him like some distant acquaintance? His frustration mingled with something else—something he couldn't quite name. Why did her sudden formality bother him so much?
"Very independent of you… *Miss Grace*," he replied, his tone laced with mockery as he threw the name back at her.
The room stilled. Helen and Thomas exchanged puzzled glances, clearly missing the unspoken tension that had just electrified the air. Even Claire seemed momentarily taken aback, her eyes widening before she quickly recovered.
Lucas caught the surprise in her expression and felt an odd surge of satisfaction, as if he'd won a silent victory. Turning on his heel, he reached for the door handle and called over his shoulder, his voice deep but clear. "Bring your résumé, and we'll go over your qualifications in the car."
Claire's jaw tightened, her fingers curling slightly at her sides as she watched him leave. Helen's cheerful voice broke the tension. "See? I told you he'd help. Such a good boy." She beamed at Claire, who could only nod stiffly, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
Thomas sighed, shaking his head as he picked up his spoon. "Well, that'll be interesting," he muttered, earning a chuckle from Helen. Claire, however, was less amused. As she grabbed her bag, she couldn't help but feel like she was walking straight into a lion's den.
Lucas was waiting outside by the car, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze fixed on her. The morning sunlight made his sharp features appear even more intimidating. She squared her shoulders, determined not to let him rattle her any further. Whatever game he thought he was playing, she wasn't about to lose.