The Billionaire's Masked Obsession

CORINNE

"Uh... good morning." My voice came out a tad squeaky, betraying my attempt at composure as his intense gaze stayed on me.

I cleared my throat awkwardly when he didn't look away. "Mr. Delacroix?"

He studied me for another second, then inclined his head a bit, as if he was trying to figure out who I was and for a moment I doubted whether I had seen the faint trace of threat in that‌‍ ‍‌look.

Then he looked down at where the twins were still holding onto my hands on both sides. His eyes stayed there for a moment longer than necessary before moving up and resting on the badge clipped to my sweater.

"Corinne Sterling," he said, dragging the words out slowly. His gaze returned to mine and I felt a shiver run down my spine. "You wanted to see me."

"Yes... yes," I forced a small smile. "If you don't mind, please follow me to my office." My fingers tightened briefly around the twins' hands, and I forced myself to step forward, trying to mask the flutter in my chest.

After handing the boys off to another staff member and exchanging quiet goodbyes, I led him down the hall. Every step echoed unnervingly in the quiet corridor as his heavy and silent presence moved behind me.

I opened the door to my office and gestured inside. "Please have a seat."

He didn't.

Instead, he walked past me and took in the room like he was cataloguing it. The shelves. The cluttered desk. The children's drawings taped crookedly to the wall. His hands stayed in his pockets with his face giving nothing away.

"Mr. Delacroix?" I tried again.

He turned to face me at last. Up close, his eyes were so cold and so flat that anyone else might have felt it as a shove, a warning. I pushed past it.

"Would you care for a glass of water?" I asked, hoping the offer might ease some of the tension or at least distract him.

"No."

He sat then, slow and unbothered, crossing his legs like he had all the time in the world. "Why did you ask to see me?"

I sighed quietly and took my seat across from him, folding my hands together on the desk to keep them still.

"It's about Elias."

That did it.

I watched him straighten, the ease he'd been pretending to have vanishing in an instant. His eyes sharpened, something guarded sliding into place.

"What about him?"

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. "What is his diagnosis? Is he... on the spectrum?"

"Is that what this is about?" His voice dropped. "You think you can't handle a slow autistic-"

"I'm going to stop you right there, Mr. Delacroix," I cut in, heat flaring despite myself. I met his glare head-on. "Did you honestly think that's what this is?"

His jaw flexed. "Then what?"

I leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to stay calm even as frustration prickled beneath my skin.

"The twins transferred here less than three months ago. I wasn't given anything to work with. No background. No notes. Just a vague instruction from the principal to 'handle him with care.'"

I shook my head slightly.

"How exactly am I supposed to do that when I don't know his triggers? I don't know what overwhelms him, what calms him down, what helps him refocus. I'm walking into every day blind, hoping I don't make things worse."

I paused, drawing in a breath before continuing.

"And for the record," I added quietly, "Elias is not slow. He processes things differently. At his own pace. That doesn't make him less capable."

My gaze lifted back to him. "You're his father. How could you even...?"

For the first time since we'd sat down, something shifted. His face stayed composed but the edge in him dulled, just slightly.

He was quiet for a moment.

"What do you want to know?" he asked finally.

"His medical records," I said. Then, after a beat, "And an explanation."

His eyes narrowed. "For what?"

"For why you've been absent," I said plainly. "I would've thought George was their father."

That earned me a reaction.

"Ms. Sterling," he said, my name clipped, almost sharp. "How exactly is it your concern that George handles things?"

"It isn't," I replied evenly. "Not directly."

I folded my hands together. "But most parents, even the busiest ones, manage to show up occasionally. Drop-offs. Meetings. Progress check-ins. It's part of being involved."

I held his gaze. "From the outside, it looks like you don't care much about their school life. And whether that's fair or not, it does raise questions."

The word hung there, ugly and irreversible.

His jaw tightened again, the muscle ticking like a warning.

Oh...shit.

This was definitely not the reason I had him come down here.

I slapped a hand over my mouth like that might rewind time.

Fuck. My mouth really was my worst enemy.

"You think I don't care about my children," he said slowly.

Not a question.

"I shouldn't have phrased it that way," I said quickly. "That was an overstep. I apologize."

I lowered my hand but kept my eyes down, suddenly very interested in the grain of my desk.

The silence that followed was heavy and too long.

I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, calculating damage, weighing whether I was worth the trouble. I was already bracing myself for an email from the principal by the end of the day. Maybe sooner.

Then he spoke.

"Have we met before?"

I looked up so fast my neck protested.

"What?"

His eyes didn't leave my face. Not even to blink.

"Do you know me from before now?"

My pulse stuttered.

I leaned back slowly, buying myself half a second to think. My mind, unhelpfully, chose violence.

'Oh dear, if I knew you any better than I do right now, I'd probably need to carve my brain open and scrape you out with a spoon.'

But of course, I couldn't say that out loud.

This is Lucian Delacroix. Widowed CEO of Delacroix Global Holdings. Private equity. Cybersecurity. Strategic acquisitions. A legacy empire so vast it didn't need him in front of cameras to dominate headlines. Even back when I still lived and breathed Chicago, his name carried weight without noise.

And then there was the other truth.

The one that tasted like smoke and bad decisions.

Three nights ago, under pulsing lights and borrowed anonymity, he had been the person I threw away my sanity for. He is a mistake I hadn't figured out how to undo.

There was a reason I'd sent that email. A reason I'd insisted he come in person. A reason I'd pushed this meeting instead of passing it off to George like everyone else did.

Everything I'd said up until now?

That was a nonsensical ruse.

So you might want to ask again. Do I know him?

Yes, I most certainly do.