The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 170

Aveline

Ryan had been exploring my house for the better part of an hour, his excitement infectious as he darted from room to room like a tiny tornado of curiosity.

"Miss Aveline!" he called out, bouncing back into the kitchen where I was preparing afternoon coffee. "Your house is even prettier than mine! And you have so many helpers!" He threw himself against my legs in an enthusiastic hug. "You know what? I changed my mind about letting you stay at my house. I want to stay at YOUR house instead! It's way more fun here!"

I laughed, gently ruffling his dark hair as I reached for the coffee beans. "Oh no, that won't work at all. Your daddy would be so lonely without you. Can you imagine how sad he'd be?"

Ryan giggled, seemingly unbothered by this concern. "He wouldn't even notice! He's never home anymore anyway."

I paused, coffee scoop halfway to the grinder. "What do you mean, he's never home?"

"He's been super busy lately," Ryan explained with the matter-of-fact tone that only children could manage. "He's always working late at the office. Great-grandfather Bryce has been staying over to keep me company instead."

The implication hit me immediately. Orion was essentially living at his office, probably trying to project an image of unwavering dedication to his board members while fighting whatever corporate war he'd started at the auction. The thought of him sleeping on some uncomfortable office couch, surviving on takeout and stress, sent an unexpected pang of sympathy through my chest.

*You stubborn idiot,* I thought, shaking my head as I resumed making coffee. *You knew this would happen when you decided to go to war. Why do you have to be so pigheaded about everything?*

"Well," I said to Ryan, trying to push thoughts of his workaholic father from my mind, "since you're so determined to stay here, how about I check with your dad and ask for permission? If he says yes, I'll officially approve your sleepover request."

Ryan's face lit up like Christmas morning. He wrapped his arms around my legs again, this time with even more determination. "And if he says no, I'm not going home!"

"Ryan!" I laughed, gently prying his small arms away from me. "You can't just refuse to go home because you don't like the answer."

That's when Grandma Eleanor emerged from her afternoon nap, her face breaking into a warm smile as she took in the scene of Ryan clinging to me like a barnacle.

"You two really do look like mother and son," she said with obvious delight. "It's quite remarkable."

I tilted my head, genuinely curious. "Do you really think so?"

Grandma Eleanor beckoned to Maria, one of our housekeepers who'd been arranging fresh flowers nearby. "Maria, come here for a moment. Look at these two and tell me what you see—I mean physically, their actual features."

Maria approached with the serious expression of someone who'd been asked to render an important judgment. She studied both Ryan and me for a full minute, her eyes moving back and forth between our faces with scientific precision.

Suddenly, she clapped her hands together. "Oh my goodness! At first I thought it was just a general resemblance, but look closely—their noses have exactly the same slope, and their eyes..." She gestured excitedly. "The shape is identical! Even the way their eyebrows arch is the same. It's like looking at a family portrait!"

Ryan puffed out his chest with obvious pride. "Of course we look alike! I knew Miss Aveline was like my mom the first time I saw her!"

I burst into laughter at his confident declaration, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

Soon we'd moved to the dining room for an early dinner. I'd asked the kitchen staff to prepare child-friendly versions of our usual fare—mini beef wellington cut into fun shapes, sweet potato fries shaped like stars, and a colorful fruit salad arranged to look like a rainbow. Ryan attacked the meal with the enthusiasm of someone who'd been offered a feast fit for a king.

After dinner, Grandma Eleanor produced what she'd been calling her "surprise" all afternoon: a beautifully carved slingshot, handmade from the dark, sturdy wood of an old oak tree. The pouch was soft leather, and it came with a small canvas bag filled with perfectly smooth, rounded river stones she'd collected herself.

"This is the coolest thing ever!" Ryan shouted, holding it up to the light. He immediately launched into a detailed explanation of all the trick shots he was going to master and the targets he would set up in the backyard.

He threw his arms around Grandma Eleanor with such force that I couldn't help but worry. "Ryan, gentle! Grandma's bones aren't as strong as yours."

"Nonsense!" Eleanor protested with a laugh. "Don't underestimate me, sweetheart. I can still do cartwheels and go down slides! This old body has plenty of life left in it."

As Ryan and Grandma Eleanor became absorbed in a deep discussion about the art of the slingshot, I found myself repeatedly checking the wall clock. Seven o'clock became seven-thirty, then eight o'clock, and with each passing minute, my expression grew more troubled.

"You're worried about his father," Grandma Eleanor observed with obvious amusement, not even looking up from where she was helping Ryan perfect his aiming stance, using a vase on the mantelpiece as an imaginary target.

I nearly spilled my coffee. "What? No! Why would you say that?"

"Oh, just the way you keep staring at that clock like it owes you money," she replied with a mischievous grin. "Wondering what he's doing at the office so late, whether he's eaten anything, whether he's thinking about you..."

*Of course she overheard our conversation earlier,* I thought with embarrassment. *Grandma doesn't miss a thing.*

"Grandma Eleanor!" I protested, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. "You're imagining things! I'm not thinking about any of that!"

She set down the slingshot and fixed me with a knowing look. "Well then, why don't you take him some dinner and discuss Ryan's sleepover arrangement? You know, just to be practical about the situation."

I paused, as if the idea had just occurred to me. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. I should probably get his permission before letting Ryan stay overnight."

"Absolutely," Grandma Eleanor agreed with barely concealed glee. "You should definitely go see him. Maybe spend some time getting to know each other better while you're there."

"Grandma!" I shot her an exasperated look. "You're being ridiculous. I'm just going to drop off food and ask about Ryan. That's it!"

But even as I protested, I was already mentally planning what kind of late dinner would travel well and imagining the conversation we'd have when I showed up at his office unannounced.

Twenty minutes later, I was walking out the door with an insulated bag full of homemade pasta, fresh bread, and what I told myself was purely practical concern for a man who was probably surviving on vending machine coffee and stress.