My Son Wished His Father’s Mistress Was Mom

The kitchen clock read 5:03 AM when I heard Kyra's soft footsteps behind me. I didn't turn around, my hands already deep in flour as I kneaded the dough for Beau's birthday cake.

"You're up early," Kyra murmured, her voice still rough with sleep. She tied her robe and washed her hands before joining me at the counter.

"I couldn't sleep," I admitted, glancing at the space-themed cake design we'd printed out. "Beau's been talking about this party for weeks."

Kyra yawned and picked up the piping bag. "At least we'll have it perfect by the time he wakes up."

We worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of utensils. Flour dusted our hair and clung to our robes as we meticulously decorated the three-tier cake with planets and stars.

"This is probably the last birthday we'll celebrate here," Kyra said suddenly, her voice barely audible over the mixer.

I paused, my hand hovering over the silver fondant. "Don't say that."

"Come on, Mina." Kyra's eyes met mine, tired and resigned. "You know it's true."

Before I could respond, the kitchen door swung open. Adalyn stood there, her slender frame draped in Damon's silk robe. The sight of it—his monogrammed initials against her collarbone—made my stomach clench.

"Good morning, ladies," she said, her voice honey-sweet. "You're up early."

"We're making Beau's cake," I explained, forcing a smile.

Adalyn's gaze swept over our creation, her lips curling slightly. "How... quaint. I already ordered one from Pierre's."

"Pierre's?" Kyra's voice sharpened. "That's a three-hour drive."

Adalyn shrugged, running her fingers through her tousled hair. "Only the best for our little prince. Besides, I doubt he'll appreciate homemade when he could have a Michelin-star pastry chef's creation."

I set down my tools carefully. "Adalyn, we've spent hours on this. It would mean a lot to Beau if—"

"If what?" She tilted her head, eyes wide with mock innocence. "If he had a messy cake that looks like it was made by amateurs?"

Kyra's hands tightened on the counter. "We're not amateurs. We're his family."

"Are you?" Adalyn's smile didn't reach her eyes. She turned and glided out, leaving a trail of Damon's cologne in her wake.

---

By noon, our Hamptons estate had transformed into a child's paradise. Balloon arches framed the entrance, and a petting zoo occupied the side lawn. Elite guests in designer casualwear mingled with champagne flutes while children squealed with delight.

I smoothed down my dress and scanned the crowd for Damon. He stood near the bar, Adalyn clinging to his arm like she might blow away in the breeze.

"Mr. Harrington just arrived," I said, approaching them. "He's been looking forward to discussing the merger."

Damon barely glanced at me. "Not now, Mina. Can't you see Adalyn's having a panic attack?"

She buried her face against his shoulder, her body trembling dramatically. "There are so many people," she whispered. "I feel like I can't breathe."

"You're safe," Damon