"Dennis!"

Small and quick, Dennis Lane darted through the crowd with ease.

Isabella Austin barely had time to react before Dennis shot up the stairs. A flicker of something unreadable flashed in her eyes.

Well, she wanted to go upstairs anyway.

Clearing her throat, she offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Dennis is just a kid. I'll go check on him."

She was just about to follow when Tristan Davis beat her to it, striding up the staircase, taking three steps at a time.

A ripple of surprise and suspicion crossed Isabella's face, but she hurried after him.

Down the hall, Emily Blair felt her words catch in her throat. She turned to see the bedroom door swing open. Before she could even process what was happening, a small figure barreled through the doorway.

"Bad lady, I'm gonna get you!"

Head down, fists raised, Dennis Lane charged at her with all the righteous fury a four-year-old could muster.

Emily instinctively sidestepped, tugging her dress out of the way. But the hem was longer than she thought, trailing across the floor. Dennis lunged forward, tripped over the skirt, and hit the ground face-first with a solid thud.

For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Then Dennis let out a wail, his sobs echoing off the walls.

Emily stared, incredulous. It was Dennis all right.

She quickly tugged her dress out from under him and stepped back, glancing helplessly at Andrew Lane and spreading her hands in protest.

Andrew clicked his tongue, brow furrowing as he looked at Dennis. “Dennis Lane, get up. On your own."

His tone was stern—commanding without having to raise his voice.

Dennis hesitated, then pushed himself up with trembling arms, sniffling as he sat up. He glared at Emily through teary eyes, then turned to Andrew with outstretched arms, voice wobbling.

"Daddy, pick me up. It hurts..."

Andrew remained unmoved, his dark eyes sharp. "Why did you do that?"

Dennis shrank under his father's gaze, then quickly pointed at Emily.

Emily arched an eyebrow.

Dennis covered his eyes and started crying again. “It was the bad lady—she tripped me! Daddy, you have to help me!"

Andrew asked calmly, "How do you want me to help?"

Dennis wiped his eyes, still sniffling. "Daddy, can you make her leave? I'll stop

crying if you send her away."

Andrew echoed, "Send her away?"

Dennis nodded furiously. “Uh-huh!"

A sly smile crept onto his face as he chanted, "Send her away, send her away, Daddy, you're the best!"

With his hands over his eyes, Dennis didn't notice Andrew's frown deepening. Emily couldn't help but be impressed. Maybe kicking people out was just a Lane family tradition—even Dennis, not yet five, had it down.

She looked up and caught Andrew watching her, his brow knit tightly.

Emily knew her place. Dennis was Andrew and Isabella's only child; she was just a guest who'd already been sent packing once. When it came down to it, Dennis's standing in this house far outweighed hers.

So even if Andrew had seen Dennis trip over his own feet, he'd probably still side with his son and show her the door.

Emily understood.

She opened her mouth before Andrew could speak. "In that case, I'll—"

"Emily Blair."

Tristan Davis's voice cut through the room.

Emily blinked in surprise. The next thing she knew, his hand closed around her

wrist. He pulled her forward, and, stumbling, she found herself pressed against his chest.

Dazed, Emily looked up at the man holding her close. “Tristan Davis?"