Our Little Cupid: The Tycoon's Child In My Arms

Pacing the confines of the tiny living room, the man finally produced a card, tossing it onto the battered table. "Two hundred thousand dollars. Take it as a small token for looking after my son."

With barely a pause, he faced Lucas. "Start packing. The driver's downstairs waiting for you." Every word carried the weight of a man accustomed to instant obedience.

Still, Lucas stood rooted to the spot.

Annoyance flickered across the man's face and he lunged for the boy's arm. "Nothing in this place is worth taking. I'll buy you everything new."

Allison and Lucas broke into motion together, each one running into the other's arms. They held on like nothing else mattered.

Never in her life had Allison felt this rattled. Not during high-stakes business deals. Not during sleepless nights at work. Nothing compared to this helpless ache.

As the man watched them, his face twisted as if the scene belonged in some ridiculous play. He let out a brief, humorless laugh, but the chill in his eyes gave Allison pause. "And what's all this supposed to mean? Don't tell me you never told him the truth—that you're not—" He bit off the end of the sentence.

The look between them told him everything he needed. She wasn't naive, not by any stretch.

He didn't stop for her sake. He simply refused to upset his own son. The thought of a child being forced to leave the only mother he'd known for four years crossed his mind.

Struggling to keep her voice steady, Allison pleaded, her words trembling, "Let me hold him a while longer. Please... just a moment more..."

A promise she'd made long ago—to give Lucas back if his real family ever came—felt meaningless now. All those days and nights, the milestones, the scraped knees, the first words, carrying him through fevers—none of it could be erased.

She had always kept his pictures to herself, terrified that one day, someone might see and recognize the boy who wasn't truly hers.

The truth about the four-year-old boy was known only to Tricia, her closest friend. Allison had not given birth to him; she had found him.

Now, the thought of letting him go seemed impossible.

Impatience crept into the man's voice. "You want more money?"

Shaking her head, Allison said nothing, her arms locking tighter around Lucas.

His face tightened, and a threat crept into his voice. "Maybe you'd rather settle this with a DNA test right now?"

The truth struck Lucas all at once. This so-called "father" wanted to take him away.

Whatever he'd imagined a father should be vanished in that moment. Barely reaching his mother's hip, Lucas still stepped in front of her, arms thrown wide, trying to shield her. "I'm not leaving! You can't take me away from my mom!" he shouted, defiant.

Keeping his tone soft, the man knelt to Lucas's level, maybe hoping to win him over. "Son, I'm your father. It's time to come home with me."

After that, he turned his attention to Allison. "Can you really offer him more by keeping him? Can you promise a better future, a better school, better opportunities? I mean no offense, but it's obvious you're struggling financially."

Allison couldn't deny the truth in his words. She remembered meeting Kyle's niece—a little girl who could recite Shakespearean sonnets from memory.

At the same time, Lucas, already four, spent his afternoons playing outdoors. She had showered him with love, but the rest was lacking.

Barely able to speak, Allison whispered, "Alright."

An exaggerated sigh left the man's lips. "That's what I expected from someone reasonable."

Nothing slipped past Lucas. He heard every word, and it was clear—his own mom was letting this man take him.

He had always bragged to the boys in the neighborhood that tough guys didn't cry.

Yet now, tears streamed down his face as he clung desperately to Allison's leg. "Mom! Please, don't let him take me! I want to stay with you!"

Allison broke down, too. Dropping to her knees, she hugged him fiercely. "Sweetheart, listen to me. Go with your dad for now, okay? I promise I'll visit. Didn't you want that little car you could drive? He'll get it for you. Please, just trust me and go..."

Desperation laced the boy's voice as he cried out, "No... I want to stay! I want you, Mom! Don't let him take me away!"

Seated on the couch, the man's patience wore thin as the crying dragged on. He forced himself to wait, letting the storm pass.

It didn't take long for Lucas to put the pieces together.

Realizing that pleading with Allison was useless, he dashed across the room and faced the man. "Don't take me away from my mom. How much do you want? I can pay you!"

It made sense to him—the man had tried to use money to separate them. Lucas had his own collection of coins and crumpled bills hidden away. Maybe if he offered his savings, this man would back off.

The man managed a weary sigh, as if indulging a child's wild hope. "Alright, we'll do it your way."

Lucas's eyes went wide with hope. Could it really be this simple?

But then the man gave a cold order that changed everything. "Take both of them."

Without another word, he headed for the door.

His men stood ready in the hall. They opened the door and bowed him out. Then three burly figures swept in, one scooping Lucas up and hauling him over his shoulder, paying no mind to the kicks, fists, and screams as they carried him down the stairs.

Allison fought to keep hold of her son, but nothing prepared her for the moment she, too, was forced to leave with him.

Two tall men closed in, one on each side, and lifted Allison as if she weighed nothing more than a sack of flour.

She barely had time to gasp before they bundled her into the back seat of a waiting car. The door slammed behind her with a heavy thud and the lock clicked into place.

By that time, a group of neighbors had gathered on the sidewalk, drawn by the noise and the sight of Allison and Lucas crying inside a shiny black sedan. The whispers started immediately.

Leaning casually against the car, the man let a cigarette dangle from his lips. One of his men struck a lighter and held the flame up.

He inhaled deeply, sent a stream of smoke into the air, and glanced over at the onlookers with a lazy, mocking grin. "What's the big deal? Haven't you ever seen a married couple argue before?"

After flicking the cigarette away, he slid into the car himself, and the convoy rolled down the street.

The neighbors traded glances, piecing together their own version of the story.

So that was Allison's husband—rich, good-looking, and clearly the reason she could wear fancy clothes and never clock in for work.

Arriving at a huge estate, Allison was led inside. She found the man waiting for her, legs crossed, coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other, utterly at ease.

It felt surreal. Only a few days ago, she'd been weighing the idea of going back to Streley. Never in her wildest dreams did she picture this outcome.

The house loomed large and eerily silent. Her eyes darted around, searching for any sign of Lucas. Red-rimmed and desperate, she asked, "Where is my son?"

Setting his iPad aside, the man motioned coolly for her to sit down.

Years of negotiating tough deals had taught him when to push—right when the other party felt most powerless.

Refusing to budge, Allison stood her ground, waiting for an answer.

"Allison Wade. Twenty-nine. Once worked as a marketing manager at Acme Inc. Divorced four years ago and settled in Blirson soon after." His calm words made her anger falter, replaced by unease.

He continued without missing a beat, "You picked up Lucian when he was a baby, not even three months old. Told everyone he was your child from your first marriage. Never once did you tell him the truth about where he came from."

Her face went pale.

Standing in this lavish home, she understood just how little power she had compared to him.

His tone stayed smooth as he added, "Since you cared for him these past four years, I won't drag this into court. But don't fool yourself. He was stolen by his nanny, who spotted you picking him up near the dumpsters. You've always known he isn't really yours."

His words grew sharper, not unkind, but cold. "You're here because Lucian cares about you. I don't want to shock my son more than necessary. Help him adjust, help him accept who his family really is, and then you're free to go."

He paused, his mouth curling in the faintest hint of a smile. "Or, if you'd rather vanish right now, that works too. Children cry for a few days, then life moves on."