Chapter 5 A Gentle Rebellion

Lena woke up with a start. For a moment, she was disoriented. The ceiling above her wasn't the one she was used to. The air smelled different-crisp, sterile, carrying the faintest hint of expensive cologne and polished wood. Then it struck her. She was in the Hale estate. Her new life.

She groaned softly, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes in an attempt to gather her thoughts. Sleep had been elusive, her mind restless with memories she wished would stay buried, but they didn't. Damien was everywhere, not just in the halls of this house, but in the corners of her mind, slipping into her thoughts, her dreams, her subconscious when she least expected it. She had spent years trying to forget him, but now, she had no choice but to face him every day.

Rolling on her side, she exhaled slowly, willing herself to focus. Today wasn't about Damien. It was about Ethan, she couldn't fail.

---

Lena stepped into the dining room to find Ethan already seated at the long, glass-topped table, his small frame by the high-backed chair. His head was bowed, his gaze downwards, staring down at the untouched plate in front of him.

Damien sat at the head of the table, dressed sharply in another tailored suit, his presence commanding as always. A newspaper lay folded beside him, and his fingers drummed once against the table before he spoke. Lena hesitated in the doorway before stepping forward.

"Good morning," she said, keeping her voice light.

Ethan didn't look up. Damien barely spared a glance in her direction. "Good, you're here, maybe you can get him to eat."

"Eat," he instructed his son, his tone firm but emotionless.

Ethan didn't move.

"Ethan." His tone was more clipped this time.

Still, no response.

Lena moved carefully toward the table, choosing her seat across from the little boy. Still, he didn't look up, his spoon resting motionless on the side of his plate. The meal in front of him-a perfectly plated arrangement of scrambled eggs, toast, and avocado slices, and grapes-remained untouched.

Damien exhaled, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "You're not leaving this table until you eat."

Ethan's hands curled into tiny fists in his lap. Lena could feel it, the resistance, the quiet rebellion in the child's demeanor. Her chest felt heavy for him this was wrong. She had seen kids shut down before, seen them withdraw into themselves when faced with harshness, even if unintentional. Damien wasn't cruel, but he was rigid. Structured. Probably believing his approach was what Ethan needed; a firm hand. It wasn't.

Carefully, she reached for a slice of toast from her own plate and took a bite, making a noticeable show of chewing thoughtfully. She glanced at Ethan and whispered with intent, "You know... I think they put magic in the food here."

Ethan's head tilted slightly, his small brow furrowing.

Lena grinned. "Really, it's true. I took a bite of this toast, and I swear I feel stronger already." She flexed her arm dramatically. "See? Super strong."

A flicker of something amusement crossed Ethan's face.

Lena picked up a grape from her plate and held it between her fingers. "And I heard a rumor that these grapes make you invisible if you eat three in a row." She gasped, leaning in, lowering her voice as she did. "Have you ever tried it?"

Ethan hesitated, his fingers twitching toward the fruit on his plate. Damien watched in silence. Lena picked up another grape and popped it into her mouth, counting under her breath. "One..." She reached for another. "Two..."

Ethan's hand finally moved, slowly picking up a grape from his plate. Lena smiled but didn't react too much, didn't push. Instead, she whispered, "Three." And then, in an exaggerated gasp, she waved her hands in front of her face. "What... am I disappearing?"

For the first time since she had met him, Ethan made a sound. A quiet, barely-there huff of amusement. That was the closet she had ever seen hi to a normal 5-year-old. Damien's eyes narrowed in keen interest.

Ethan quickly dropped his gaze again, as if realizing he had committed some wrong. Lena saw this as highly problematic. Lena kept her tone light. "Guess it didn't work this time. Maybe next time we should try strawberries next."

Ethan picked up another grape, this time putting it in his mouth without hesitation. Ease crept into Lena's chest.

Damien set his newspaper down. "You don't have to trick him into eating," he said, his voice calm but firm.

Lena met his gaze. "I'm not tricking him. I'm just making it less of a chore."

Damien studied her, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. For a moment, she thought he would argue. But then he simply leaned back in his chair, watching as Ethan took another small bite of toast. Lena didn't look away, neither did Damien.

As breakfast came to an end, Ethan sat with his half-empty plate, his small fingers idly tracing patterns on the table. Lena wasn't sure if he was lost in thought or simply hesitant to leave.

"Ethan," Damien's voice was firm but not unkind. "Go get ready."

His fingers stopped, but he didn't move right away. His gaze flickered to Lena, as if debating something. It was subtle, barely a second, but she caught it. A silent moment stretched between them-warm and vulnerable.

Lena offered him a small, reassuring smile. "Go on, then. I'll see you later."

Ethan lingered for just a moment longer, then, without a word, slid off his chair and padded toward the door. He didn't say thank you, didn't acknowledge her, but he also didn't ignore her completely. That was progress. It was something. A crack in the wall he had built.

Damien noticed, his sharp gaze followed Ethan as he left, his expression unreadable, as usual. When his attention returned to Lena, there was something different in his eyes. Not warmth, not yet-but curiosity.