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

Before Allison even registered the movement, she shot upright, her attention locked on Kyle as he crossed the room.

Confusion and disbelief overtook any remnants of surprise or longing inside her.

Watching Kyle lean over the little boy, his features softened by worry, she saw the same tenderness he once reserved for Lucas.

Nearly four years and a month had passed since their marriage ended. That child was just three years and seven months old—evidence that the other woman had been expecting before their split was official.

Gripping the hospital bed's metal rail, Allison squeezed until her knuckles drained of color. Her whole frame began to shake.

Betrayal stung like nothing else—a pain sharper than any wound—especially when it came from the man you once loved.

No matter how much time passed, the pain still bit just as hard.

All this time, she had blamed the divorce on Kyle's weakness, his inability to stand up to his mother. Never had it crossed her mind that the soft-spoken man she had trusted had betrayed her before their marriage was even over.

That day came rushing back—her memory sharp as ever—Kyle holding her in a tight embrace, his voice raw with guilt as he whispered his apology.

Only now did she finally see what that apology had been hiding.

Rage and humiliation crashed through her, draining the warmth from her body and leaving her feeling as though she might float away.

Derek caught sight of her unraveling the moment her posture faltered. She hadn't been herself since the new neighbors took over the next bed, her nerves stretched thin.

He wasn't one for interfering, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

Just a few minutes ago, Allison wanted nothing more than to tear into Kyle for cheating on her. Then another woman darted into the room, and for a split second, Allison felt the urge to lash out at them both.

A striking woman hurried over in heels that clicked across the floor, concern coloring her words as she called out, "Honey, is our son all right?"

Without meeting her eyes, Kyle fussed over the child's pillow, steady and attentive. "The doctor told me it's only mild pneumonia. They'll keep him here a little longer to be safe," he replied.

As Allison's eyes settled on the woman's face, her entire body went rigid. Recognition flashed instantly—she'd know Haylee Nash anywhere.

Memories crowded in. Years ago, Kyle used to dote on Haylee. Haylee had spent years working overseas, yet every homecoming meant a trip to see Kyle's mother, who cherished her as though she were family.

Allison's eyes burned red. She almost wished someone would hand her a knife right then.

Pride had carried her through so much. Now, all she could feel was humiliation—she'd been deceived by the person she trusted most.

After making sure the boy was settled, Kyle finally turned and met her stare. A flicker of surprise broke across his face when he realized who stood in front of him.

Fighting to hold herself together, Allison forced her features into a mask of serenity, even adding a small, polite smile. She refused to let anyone see her broken or defeated.

Kyle stood frozen, a jumble of guilt, panic, and disbelief warring across his features. His lips parted, but nothing came out.

Haylee's own glare was ready, clearly annoyed by Kyle's wandering attention, but the moment she saw Allison, that irritation vanished.

"Allie… is that you? When did you get back?" Kyle stammered.

No answer came from Allison. She understood him better than he realized—always weak, forever bending to his mother's wishes. Likely, the affair hadn't been his idea, but he'd never stopped it, either.

The more Allison kept her silence, the more anxious Kyle appeared.

Haylee's face turned red, and her words came out barely above a whisper. "A-Allie..."

Allison smiled faintly, still silent, giving the cheating pair plenty of time to squirm.

The realization finally hit Derek, watching it all unfold. Former lovers crossing paths—no wonder the mood had shifted so sharply.

Suddenly, Allison felt a hand come to rest on her back, brief but steady. The faint warmth seeped through her blouse, grounding her, helping her regain her composure.

It wasn't Derek's style to meddle, but she was responsible for his son now. He didn't want her shaken.

Besides, he had always carried that protective edge, believing anyone who looked after his child for so long somehow belonged under his shield.

He figured caring for her was no different than watching over a trusted employee or long-serving housekeeper.

Taking a quick breath to steady herself, Allison made her voice sound light. "Looks like your son's grown up a lot, Kyle."

For one reckless moment, she felt the urge to cross the room and slap him—maybe then he'd understand how deep the hurt ran.

But that fire wasn't for him anymore. He didn't deserve her anger or embarrassment.

This was a hospital, after all. Two children lay nearby, and a public outburst would only make her seem small.

Even more so in front of Derek—a man who, despite his involvement, remained an outsider.

Kyle's cheeks flushed crimson. His lips parted, searching for an explanation he couldn't find. "Allie..."

Right then, Lucas's eyes fluttered open. Spotting Allison close by, he squeezed her hand. "Mom, who is that man?"

The hardness in Allison's eyes vanished. She bent down, brushing his forehead, relieved to find it cooler. "It's alright, sweetheart. He's just an old friend of mine."

The answer made Kyle pause, realization flickering in his eyes. He knew she wasn't able to have children. His gaze moved from Lucas to Derek, who stood quietly near them.

Observing the boy's closeness to her, along with the quiet support of the other man, gave Kyle a sliver of relief. He told himself that as long as she looked content, maybe that was enough—even if it meant she was just the boy's stepmother.

Allison paid him no attention. Keeping herself calm was the only way forward, especially for Lucas's sake.

Good manners could keep her in check, but pretending nothing had happened would be asking too much.

Lucas's fever finally broke with the help of the IV, and as the hospital's crowding worsened, they were released by afternoon.

Upon returning to Derek's estate, Allison tucked Lucas into bed. She stepped outside, determined to pick up some necessities from her old apartment—she hadn't brought a thing with her to Streley, thanks to the unexpected trip.

Lucas's illness meant she couldn't stay away for long, so she intended to return right after gathering her essentials.

Declining Derek's suggestion to send a driver, she called a cab and rode alone to the apartment she'd abandoned four years back.

The keypad showed only the faintest traces of dust, nothing like what she expected from a place left untouched. A sliver of suspicion crept in, yet she punched in the code and stepped inside.

At the threshold, a pair of unfamiliar women's slippers greeted her. She stopped cold, scanning the room. The furniture arrangement had changed, and strange belongings littered the space. It was obvious someone had made themselves at home here.

Disbelief pressed down on her, turning her thoughts to static and squeezing her chest with a sick ache.

She raced to the bedroom. Resting on the nightstand sat a photo of Kyle, Haylee, and their child, all smiles in a neat frame. The truth landed with a sting.

Acting on pure instinct, she seized the picture and hurled it to the floor. Glass exploded across the wood, echoing the breaking inside her.

Her composure vanished. Only bitterness and heartbreak remained.

Suddenly, she felt just like every other woman who'd been betrayed. Why claim to love her while sharing a bed with another? Why fake grief at their divorce? How could he dare invite his mistress and their child into what had once been their home, even their bed? How could the man she'd loved with all her heart be such a scumbag? The deeper the love had been, the more pathetic it felt now.

She kept asking herself, how could someone sink so low?

Grief gave way to anger as she tore through the room, shattering whatever she could reach. Tears ran hot down her face. Only when she had reduced the space to ruins did her energy drain away, leaving her slumped and hollow.

Holding back in the hospital had been for Lucas's sake—she'd wanted to spare Kyle. After all, over the past two years, she had indeed moved on.

But the image of that happy trio beside her own bed stripped away any compassion. She had nothing left to give.

When the storm finally passed, she dried her tears, splashed water on her face, grabbed her phone, and dialed the police.