Chapter 10 Hello, who is this

The soft Sunday sunlight filtered gently through the large windows of Dylan's bedroom, casting golden rays across his face. For once, he hadn't set an alarm. No meetings, no schedules, no pressuring emails. Just silence-and a strange feeling in his chest.

He groaned and rubbed his eyes, blinking lazily at the ceiling before finally rising from the bed. Something about the stillness of the morning didn't sit right with him. It was too quiet.

He tugged on a T-shirt, combed his fingers through his messy hair, and made his way downstairs. The rich smell of coffee or breakfast-something Molly usually had ready by now-was noticeably missing.

No eggs sizzling.

No scent of toast.

No humming from the kitchen.

Frowning, Dylan stepped into the kitchen, expecting to find her at the stove or at least bustling around. But the room was empty.

Strange.

He headed back toward the hallway that led to the maid's quarters. Her door was ajar. That wasn't like her. He tapped on the frame, still giving her the courtesy of a knock.

"Molly?" he called softly.

No answer.

He peeked inside.

The bed was made. Neatly, too. Her shoes were gone. So was her phone charger and the small scarf she often wore when stepping outside.

Maybe she went for a morning stroll?

He scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the wall clock. 8:47 a.m.

She wouldn't just leave without telling him, would she? After everything that happened yesterday, he'd expected her to be distant-maybe cold-but not missing.

His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. He walked over, half-hoping it was her.

But no.

Dad.

Dylan stared at the name on the screen, the corners of his mouth tightening.

What the hell did he want?

The phone rang once more before Dylan finally answered, voice flat and impatient. "What do you want?"

A moment of silence.

Then his father's voice came, softer than usual. "Hello, son."

Dylan's lips curled in irritation. "Cut to the chase. I'm not in the mood for one of your hollow greetings."

"I was hoping we could meet today," the older man said, a quiet undertone in his voice Dylan didn't quite recognize.

He scoffed. "Now you want to meet? After ignoring my existence for thirty years?"

"I'm trying to make things right."

Dylan let out a cold chuckle, dragging a hand through his hair. "Right. Now you suddenly want to play father of the year?"

"People change."

"Yeah, well, some of us are too damaged to notice." He sighed sharply. "Listen, I don't have time for this."

"Dylan-"

"Goodbye, Dad."

He hung up before his father could finish whatever speech he had rehearsed.

The gall of the man.

Years of being overlooked, criticized, and treated like second best to Tyler his younger brother-and now, because Dylan had made something of himself, his father wanted a relationship? No. He was done chasing affection that came with conditions.

Dylan leaned against the kitchen counter, shoulders tense. His father had never once sat with him for breakfast. Never came to any of his college presentations. Never even looked at his business pitches until Dylan had made his first million.

Now he wanted lunch?

It would be funny if it wasn't so tragic.

Then Dylan's gaze flicked to the time on his phone.

9:14 a.m.

Molly still wasn't back.

Where was she?

He quickly opened his contacts and found her number. It rang twice before it was picked up.

"Hello, who is this?" came her panicked voice.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "It's me. Your boss."

"Oh, thank God," Molly gasped. "Please help me, sir. I think I'm lost. I've been on this road for hours trying to find my way back."

Dylan blinked, startled. "Lost? Where are you?"

"I don't know!" she cried. "There's a tree-I don't know what type. And lots of cars. The houses all look the same. Like copy and paste!"

Despite himself, Dylan cracked a smile. "Okay. Breathe, Molly. Can you give me a street name?"

"I can't see one!" she said, flustered. "And my phone's on low battery. Sir, I don't want to die here."

"You're not going to die," he said with a half-laugh. "Just stay where you are. I think I know the place. You probably wandered into that new estate development three streets over. Everything there looks cloned."

The line crackled once.

Then silence.

"Molly?" he called.

"Sir? Sir? I-"

And the line cut.

"Damn it!" Dylan hissed, snatching his car keys. "Alright, tree and identical houses. Let's go rescue the damsel in distress."

Fifteen minutes later, Dylan rolled into the neighborhood he suspected. It was a relatively new estate with a poor GPS signal, all white-painted houses with manicured lawns and oddly similar flowerbeds.

He slowed the car.

And then he saw her.

Molly was standing by a short tree-definitely a mango tree-looking like she'd just lost a war. Her hair was a little frizzy from the morning wind, and her face lit up the second she saw his car.

She ran over and yanked open the passenger door. "Oh, my God! Sir, you came!"

"I live with you," he said dryly, "not rescuing you might've been bad for business."

Molly groaned dramatically, sinking into the seat. "I just wanted to take a walk. Clear my head. And I got lost in this maze of boring houses."

He laughed. "You mean beautiful houses."

"They're dead inside," she said with a straight face. "No life. No soul. No fried plantains."

Dylan shook his head, amused. "How long were you out here?"

"An hour. Maybe more." She leaned her head back. "My legs feel like jelly."

Dylan looked over at her, a smirk curling on his lips. "You walked straight into the land of ghosts and clones."

"Well, next time I'll take a piece of bread so I can mark my trail like Hansel and Gretel," she muttered.

He chuckled, the tension of the morning fading into something softer.

"Let's get you home, Miss Explorer."

She glanced at him. "Are you still mad about yesterday?"

Dylan's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, but he shook his head. "No. I was wrong."

She smiled faintly. "You really were."

"I'll make it up to you."

"Good," she said, settling into the seat. "You can start by feeding me waffles."

He laughed again, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on his chest didn't feel so suffocating.