One second. Two seconds.

The figure outside the door froze in shock before snapping out of it and bolting down the hall.

Lizetta was just as stunned, but she recovered quickly, throwing the door open and yelling in anger.

"Stop right there! Grab him!"

The boy instinctively tried to run faster, but Lizetta shot a glare at the security team stationed in the corridor.

These were Remington's men, and he had obviously given them strict orders to follow her commands.

The two guards exchanged a quick glance before lunging forward and blocking his path.

The boy, securely grabbed by one of the guards, struggled frantically.

"Let me go! Get off me!"

Lizetta marched over and smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

"Joseph Dashiell! What the hell do you think you're doing? Why did you run the second you saw me?"

The smack acted like an off-switch.

One second, the little wolf cub was baring his teeth and snarling at the guards; the next, he went entirely still, his head drooping like a puppy that knew it had done something terrible.

Lizetta signaled the guards to release him. They let Joseph go and stepped back to their posts.

Lizetta stared at Joseph, a mix of shock and genuine joy washing over her.

She hadn't seen him in over six months. She was truly thrilled.

The kid had grown like a weed. The last time she saw him, he had been tall and scrawny, but he only reached her chin.

Now, he was just as tall as her. By tilting her head slightly, she was staring straight into his slightly red-rimmed eyes.

"Why are you crying? It's only been six months. Have you forgotten how to greet me?"

Lizetta reached out and affectionately patted the boy's shoulder.

Realizing there was no escape, Joseph finally looked up at her. His lips trembled before he mumbled,

"Liz."

As soon as the name slipped out, his eyes filled with tears. He looked overwhelmed with guilt, panic, and a deep pathetic sadness as if he had the word problem written in bold letters across his forehead

Lizetta reached out and ruffled his hair.

"Come with me."

She turned and headed back toward her room.

Joseph hung his head, biting his lip, and obediently trailed behind her.

Lizetta sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at the boy standing awkwardly in front of her.

"Your brother said you were recovering abroad. When did you get back? Are you feeling completely better?"

Joseph glanced up at her, then quickly averted his gaze.

"I... I'm doing really well now. I'm all healed. I just... I just got back a couple of days

ago. Liz, I'm supposed to meet some friends. I should go."

The boy spun around and headed for the door. Lizetta didn't call him back.

It wasn't until his hand closed around the doorknob that she spoke, her tone slow and deliberate.

"Joseph Dashiell, are you planning

on hiding from me for the rest of

your life? If that's how it's going to

if

tor

be then don't have a title brother

anymore. Don't bother calling me Liz ever again."

The boy's thin back went rigid. He was still just a kid, and at her words, his tears finally spilled over.

Watching his shoulders shake while he refused to turn around, Lizetta felt a mix of exasperation and fondness.

She walked over, gripped his shoulders, and spun him around.

Seeing him actually crying, she poked him gently on the cheek. "You little crybaby. Didn't you promise you were going to grow up fast so you could protect me? Now look at you! You disappear for a while and instead of growing up, you turn into a complete waterworks!

She dragged him over to the sofa, pushed him down into a seat, and handed him a couple of tissues.

When he didn't take them, she sighed.

"Do I have to wipe your face for you? Are you really going to be this stubborn?"