Chapter 172.

The doorbell rang again.

Kylie stared at the door.

For a second, she didn’t move.

Her hand was still resting against the edge of the kitchen counter, her phone forgotten on the marble behind her.

She had just ended the call with Emilia.

Her heart was still beating strangely from the conversation.

Emilia knew now. Not everything, but enough. Enough to ask questions Kylie wasn’t ready to answer.

Enough to hear the hesitation in her voice.

And then he’d walked into the room behind Emilia.

One look. One stupid, quiet look, and suddenly Kylie had remembered everything she’d been trying not to think about.

The way he’d looked at her when he’d entered. The way his hand had tightened around his phone. The way he’d almost said something before stopping himself.

Kylie closed her eyes. "Get yourself together."

The doorbell rang again.

She sighed. "Coming."

She walked toward the door. She expected a delivery, maybe a neighbor, or maybe one of the building staff.

For one brief, ridiculous second, a part of her wondered if Christian had somehow come back.

That would be ridiculous.

She immediately pushed the thought away.

Kylie unlocked the door, pulled it open, and froze.

The woman standing on the other side was older than Kylie expected.

Elegant, immaculate, and cold.

She wore a fitted blue suit that looked expensive enough to cost more than everything inside Kylie’s apartment combined.

Her dark hair was perfectly styled, her makeup understated but precise, and a pair of sunglasses rested on top of her head.

She didn’t smile, and she didn’t introduce herself.

She simply looked Kylie up and down.

From her face, to her bare legs, to the short skirt she’d thrown on earlier, and to the tiny fitted top.

Then back to her face. She looked at her slolwy. With contempt.

Kylie felt the judgment before the woman even spoke. She slao recognised the woman.

"You’re Kylie."

Kylie straightened slightly. "Yes."

The woman’s eyes narrowed. "I’m Christian’s mother."

Kylie tightened her grip around the edge of the door. "Okay."

Christian’s mother glanced past her into the apartment. Her expression changed to open disgust.

Her gaze traveled over the living room.

Her mouth tightened. "Here." She scoffed.

Kylie blinked. "Excuse me?"

The woman stepped slightly forward, looking around as though she’d accidentally walked into the wrong building.

"So this is where my son has been."

Kylie frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I haven’t seen Christian around." Her tone was clipped. "The care center told me he left with you."

Kylie’s stomach dropped.

She understood immediately. She kept her voice even. "He came with me because he needed somewhere to stay."

Christian’s mother looked at her. "Somewhere to stay."

"Yes."

"How convenient."

Kylie’s brows drew together. "I don’t understand what you’re implying."

"I think you understand perfectly."

The woman’s eyes moved over Kylie again.

She stared through the short skirt, and the tiny top she wore, and then to her bare shoulders, and bare legs.

"And this is what my son left with."

Kylie’s jaw tightened. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

The woman gave a quiet, humorless laugh. "You really want me to explain?"

"Yes."

"Fine." She looked Kylie directly in the eyes. "My son was grieving. His grandfather had just died. He was emotionally vulnerable."

Kylie said nothing.

"And instead of giving him space to process his loss, you invited him into your apartment. Your cheap classless apartment."

Kylie eyes hardened. "He came here."

"You allowed him to stay."

"Yes."

"For two days."

Kylie folded her arms.

The woman’s gaze sharpened. "And he slept here."

Kylie felt heat crawl up her neck. She refused to look away. "Yes." She answered firmly.

"With you."

Kylie said nothing.

The silence answered for her.

"I see."

Kylie stared at her. "You came here to accuse me of something?"

"I came here to understand what kind of woman had my son sleeping in her apartment when he could afford the best hotels."

Kylie’s face hardened. "He wasn’t sleeping with me."

The woman raised a brow. "I didn’t say he was."

The implication was worse.

Kylie immediately realized she’d walked into the trap.

Christian’s mother watched the realization settle over her face. Then she smiled again. "Interesting."

Kylie took a slow breath. "Christian was grieving. I gave him somewhere quiet to stay. That’s all."

"That’s all?"

"Yes."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I don’t particularly care what you believe."

The woman stepped closer. "Be careful."

Kylie didn’t move. She raised a challanging brow at her. "About what?"

"Your attitude."

"You came to my home." Kylue reminded her.

"I came because of my son."

"And I haven’t done anything to your son."

"You’ve done enough."

Kylie stared at her. "I’ve done enough by letting him stay somewhere safe?"

"You’ve done enough by making yourself available to a man who is already promised to someone else."

Kylie’s stomach tightened. She knew this conversation was coming eventually. She just hadn’t expected it to arrive at her front door.

"Christian isn’t married."

"He will be."

"That’s his decision."

"No." The woman’s voice became colder. "That is my family’s decision."

Kylie stared at her. The arrogance of it almost left her speechless.

"Christian is an adult."

"He’s my son."

"Those aren’t the same thing."

The woman’s expression went still.

Kylie knew immediately that she’d struck something. She wasn’t going to stand here and be insulted in her own home.

Christian’s mother looked at her for several long seconds. Then she laughed spoke again. "You really have no idea who you’re speaking to."

"I know exactly who I’m speaking to."

"No, you don’t." She took another step forward. "You are a girl who lives in a small apartment, dresses like this, and believes because my son found you attractive, you suddenly belong in his world."

The woman looked around again. "This?" She gestured vaguely at the apartment. "This is your world."

Kylie glanced around.

"And you think Christian wants this?"

Kylie felt something inside her shift. Anger soread through her chest. "Christian isn’t a possession."

The woman smiled. "He’s my son." She repeated again.

"And he can make his own decisions."

"He can." She paused. "But he won’t be making this one."

Kylie crossed her arms more tightly. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"I want you to stay away from him."

Kylie stared at her. She smiled. A mocking one. "That’s not your decision."

"It will become very much my decision if you continue."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I’m warning you."

Kylie let out a breath.

"You’ve come into my apartment, insulted me, insulted where I live, judged what I’m wearing, questioned what happened between Christian and me, and now you’re telling me who I’m allowed to speak to?"

"Yes." The woman didn’t even hesitate. "And you still haven’t understood the important part."

Kylie waited.

"Christian is getting married by March."

The words landed heavily.

Kylie already knew about the wedding. She knew about Isabel. She knew about the public announcement. She knew Christian didn’t want it.

She knew he had never chosen it.

"That’s between Christian and Isabel."

"No." The woman’s voice sharpened. "It is between you and me now."

Kylie gave her a disbelieving look. "Why?"

"Because I will not have my son’s future contaminated by a woman who has no place in it."

Kylie felt the first real sting. She swallowed forcefully. "You don’t know me."

"I know enough."

"You know nothing about me."

"You should be more careful about how quickly you become arrogant."

Kylie looked at the distance between them. "You’re right." She shut the dokr a bit. "But you’re welcome to leave."

The woman didn’t move.

Instead, she looked Kylie over once more. Then she said quietly, "Have you seen Isabel?"

Kylie didn’t answer.

"Have you?"

"I know who she is."

"Do you?"

The woman’s expression was almost amused.

"Isabel Dolce is educated. Refined. Beautiful. Well connected. She understands how to behave in rooms that matter."

Kylie felt her jaw tighten. "And?"

"And you?" The woman tilted her head. "What exactly are you?"

Kylie stared at her.

The woman’s eyes hardened. She stepped closer. "You are the remains of whatever dust God used in creating Isabel."