A familiar voice he hadn't heard in years spoke his name—
Kade stopped walking.
The music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—
all of it blurred into noise.
Because he had heard it.
Not imagined it.
Not remembered it.
He had heard it.
"Kade."
His name—spoken softly, carefully.
His shoulders stiffened.
Slowly, he turned.
She stood near the edge of the hall, half-hidden behind a group of guests.
Elegant dress. Calm smile. A face untouched by the years that had torn his apart.
His mother.
The woman who had left when he was fifteen.
The woman who had run away—with another man—
leaving him behind with a father she knew was a monster.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she stepped closer.
"You've grown," she said gently, like she had the right.
Kade's eyes were cold. Empty.
"So did your courage," he replied. "It finally brought you back?"
Her expression faltered. "That's not fair."
He let out a quiet laugh. "Neither was staying."
Silence stretched between them.
"I didn't have a choice," she said finally. "Your father—"
"You knew," Kade cut in, voice low but sharp. "You always knew."
Her hands trembled slightly. "I was scared."
"So was I," he said. "I was fifteen."
That landed.
She swallowed. "I thought… I thought you'd be safer with him than with me running."
Kade stepped closer—not aggressive, not loud.
Dangerously calm.
"You left me with a man who enjoyed breaking things," he said.
"Sometimes furniture."
"Sometimes people."
Her breath caught. "Kade—"
"You didn't even look back," he continued. "You didn't call. Didn't write. You vanished."
Tears welled in her eyes. "I thought if I stayed away, it would hurt less."
His voice dropped. "It didn't."
Another pause.
"I saw you tonight and I—" she hesitated. "I wanted to know if you were okay."
Kade looked at her for a long moment.
Then—
"I survived," he said. "That's not the same thing."
Her tears fell freely now. "I never stopped being your mother."
He shook his head slowly. "You stopped the day you chose yourself over your child."
That broke her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "If I could go back—"
"You can't," Kade said. "And even if you could… I wouldn't follow."
Footsteps echoed nearby. Voices.
Life continuing.
She reached out, stopping herself before touching him.
"I hope someday you forgive me," she said.
Kade met her eyes.
"I forgave you," he said quietly.
"Years ago."
She looked hopeful.
Then he finished—
"Forgiveness doesn't mean access."
She nodded, devastated.
As she walked away, Kade stood still, chest tight—but face unreadable.
Behind him, the party went on.
But something inside him had cracked open again.
Not because she returned—
But because she reminded him
how early he had learned
that love leaves first.
And somewhere across the hall,
Rowan watched Kade's rigid posture, sensing the shift.
The night wasn't loud anymore.
It was dangerous....