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

What terrified Allison most was the thought that, after a few brief days of crying, she would simply fade from Lucas's memory as if she had never existed.

Steadying herself with a deep breath, she brushed her hair behind her ear and finally eased into the armchair across from the man. Her eyes sharpened, the same way they did during her toughest negotiations. "I'll think about what you've said, but I won't do anything else until I see Luc."

Despite her initial decision to return Lucas to his family, she felt a persistent concern for him now. After all, they had never been apart.

"He cried himself to sleep a little while ago. Get some rest yourself. We'll talk again once you've had time to recover."

"Aren't you going to explain your family's situation to me?" Despite her disheveled appearance, Allison didn't want the man to control everything.

He didn't hesitate. "I'm Derek Lawson. Lucian's mother died in childbirth. The nanny I entrusted him to, angered by my reprimand, spirited him away. It was never about keeping him—only about causing me pain. I finally located her two days ago."

Learning the truth hit hard. Lucas's mother was gone before he took his first breath. He'd come into this world alone, and Allison—she was never meant to have a child of her own.

A housekeeper soon prepared a guest room for Allison, and this time, she didn't object. The hot shower washed away some of the exhaustion, and sleep claimed her as soon as her head touched the pillow.

Every nerve had been strung tight since Derek's arrival, and the long drive afterward left her barely able to keep her eyes open. Rest was a luxury she couldn't refuse; she needed her strength for whatever was next.

Time slipped by until a sharp rapping at the door jolted her awake.

"Ms. Wade, Luc's crying. Would you come out and see him?" called a worried staff member from the hall.

Soundproof walls had muffled everything, so Allison hadn't realized Lucas was crying.

"Mom… I want you, Mom!" Lucas's cries seeped in through the gap.

Without a second thought, Allison hurried past the staff member and rushed for the stairs. "I'm here, Luc. I'm right here!"

Tears stained Lucas's cheeks. The moment he caught sight of her, he broke away from the staff member and barreled into Allison's arms. "Where did you go, Mom?"

Allison scooped him up, wiping his tears. "I'm right here. I just needed a little rest. Don't cry now, okay? I'm here."

Since turning three, Lucas had rarely acted out like this. He kept insisting that he was a big boy now, and that big boys didn't cry.

"Mom, do you not want me anymore? I promise I'll behave. I won't pick on anybody again. Just don't give me away..."

His thoughts raced back to the moment that man showed up and took him. His mother hadn't fought to keep him. He figured maybe he'd done something unforgivable and she didn't want him anymore.

Allison's heart twisted. Lucas could sob his fears out, but there was nowhere for her pain to go.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetie. Try to be brave now, or those other kids might tease you."

"Okay, Mom. Please stay with me. I won't cry again," Lucas said, blinking away his tears and trying to steady his breathing, afraid that more crying would push her away.

Holding her son close, Allison glanced up and caught Derek watching from the doorway, arms folded, eyes unreadable.

Neither of them could stand the sight of Lucas's tears; the very sound of it broke their hearts.

Suddenly, Allison's hand landed on Lucas's forehead, then on her own. Alarm flashed through her. "Why is he burning up?"

At first, she thought his red cheeks came from crying, but heat radiated from his skin. He had a fever.

Derek stepped in when he heard the worry in her voice. "Rita, get the thermometer."

Within moments, the housekeeper hurried over.

The numbers flashed—101 degrees.

Allison slipped her hand beneath Lucas's T-shirt and found his clothes soaked through.

"Why did nobody notice he was this sweaty? His tee's completely soaked—why didn't someone change him?" In her panic, Allison didn't even know who she was shouting at.

On the way to Streley, only men had cared for Lucas, doing their best to calm him in the car. When they'd finally arrived, he refused to let the house staff help, and his sweat-soaked T-shirt went unnoticed, leaving him shivering with a cold.

Derek wasted no time. "We're going to the hospital!" He looked at Rita Flynn, his housekeeper. "Get the car ready."

He moved forward, arms outstretched, but Allison turned away, keeping Lucas close. "Get him some dry clothes!" she shouted, unwilling to let Derek touch her son.

Though Derek bristled at her sharp tone, he nodded and sent someone to fetch fresh clothes.

Allison whisked Lucas into the bathroom, switched on the heater, and with shaky hands, dressed him in warm, dry pajamas.

Back when Lucas was just eighteen months old, one night took a terrifying turn. Fever had gripped him for who knew how long before Allison noticed. She scooped him up and raced down the stairs, his small frame surprisingly heavy in her arms. Minutes ticked by as she searched in vain for a taxi—finally, a passing car came into view. Without a second thought, she flagged it down, putting her fears aside, and insisted the driver help. Luck was with her that night; the driver was kindhearted and rushed them to the nearest emergency room.

A warning from the doctor had haunted her ever since: if his temperature didn't break, the fever might lead to meningitis.

That memory sent a chill through Allison even now.

Looking at Lucas today, she saw a pale, weary child. At first, she'd blamed his tears for the lethargy, but she soon realized the fever had been smoldering unseen.

"Mom, really, I'm fine. Some warm water and I'll feel better," Lucas murmured, trying to keep his eyelids open. He must've learned that line from her, using it now to try and soothe her nerves.

Allison pressed him against her chest and hurried out, murmuring between hurried breaths, "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry..."

Hospitals were always overflowing with families, and today was no exception.

Planning ahead had paid off—her online appointment meant they could skip the crowded waiting area and go straight in.

Completely worn out, Lucas drifted off to sleep. Allison's worry was written all over her face, and Derek, noticing her distress, spoke with unexpected gentleness. "Let me carry him for a bit."

It was unusual for Derek to set aside his haughty demeanor, especially for something so ordinary.

Normally, he would have left this to the household staff, but his son had only just come home. He wanted to bridge the gap between them, even if it started with something as simple as carrying the boy.

Four years he had spent searching for Lucas, and now every minute mattered.

Allison's instinct was to refuse. She hesitated, then silently placed Lucas in Derek's arms. There was no point clinging any tighter, not when she'd have to say goodbye soon.

It was Derek's first time holding a child—a clumsy, uncertain embrace. He was startled by the boy's solid weight in his arms.

He glanced at Allison, watching her worry and fret over the hospital board. He couldn't comprehend how she managed to hold the boy for so long, never pausing, never complaining.

Allison finally let herself breathe once the IV drip started and Lucas's fever began to fall.

"Lucas hardly ever gets sick. After his second birthday, he barely needed a doctor. Usually, a simple cold is nothing, but you can't ignore a fever. One time it nearly turned into meningitis," Allison explained to Derek, standing by the bedside watching Lucas sleep.

"He isn't a fussy eater, but peanuts are off-limits. He's got a lot of energy, sweats like crazy when he's playing, so always check if his back is damp and change his tee if it is. He's obsessed with cars—he's always asking for one of those ride-on convertibles."

She figured a gift like that might just make it easier for Lucas to accept Derek as his father.

"There's a bit of astigmatism in his left eye, so keep an eye on how much time he spends with screens. He'll need another checkup in two months—don't forget."

While holding the hand that wasn't connected to the IV, Allison ran through her list of reminders for Derek.

She paused, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Can you promise to be the father he needs?"

Derek stared back, silent and unreadable.

Turning away from Derek, Allison brushed her fingers across Lucas's forehead. "He's always longed for a father. Please don't let him feel alone anymore."

For all his tough exterior, Lucas always wilted when someone brought up his missing father.

"When you were in Blirson, you didn't have a job. How did you get by all this time?" Derek asked, shifting the topic with a tone devoid of warmth, unclear whether from curiosity or another motive.

He'd never had the chance to dig deep into her background before.

Still, he knew raising a child couldn't have been cheap.

"My ex-husband's family paid out a settlement after the divorce, and I had some savings from my old job. But it's almost gone now."

Now that she'd landed back in Streley, separated from Lucas, it was time to pick herself up and return to work, to reclaim a life of her own.

With hospitals constantly stretched to their limits, even Derek hadn't managed to secure a private room. Their conversation was cut short when a doctor arrived, escorting another patient into the room.

Allison looked over, noticing a young boy—no more than four—being gently settled onto the neighboring bed by an adult.

The nurse double-checked the records. "Liam Clark, three years and seven months, right?" she said before prepping the IV.

The words caught Allison's attention. She turned her eyes to the man at the child's side.

"Yes, that's right, he's three years and seven months," the man said, his anxious voice striking a familiar chord for Allison.