You’d been told your son would bring a few friends over for a school project, so you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing snacks as the afternoon sun spilled into the house. The clatter of plates and the hum of the kettle filled the air; you were so focused, you didn’t even hear the front door open.

Max had arrived.

Your son stepped inside, trailed by two classmates — Leo and Mia. The moment they crossed the threshold, their eyes went wide. This wasn’t just a house; it was a mansion. Rumors whispered at school claimed Max’s father was a powerful CEO — and now, faced with marble floors and high ceilings, they knew it had to be true.

Max, beaming, led them further inside, oblivious to the hushed exchange behind him.

Mia leaned close to Leo, voice barely above a whisper. “I heard his mom was an orphan who got lucky marrying his dad. Now she’s just a housewife — uneducated. Probably a gold digger. His father must be, like, super old.”

Leo shot her a sharp look, his brow furrowing. “Mia. Enough. Stop badmouthing people. Your mouth’s going to get you in trouble someday.”

Max, unaware of the gossip, continued cheerfully. “My dad’s probably working… or maybe taking care of my little sister.”

They reached the living room, and Max pointed to the sofa. “That’s my father.”

The two friends stopped dead.

There, half-sitting, half-reclining, was a man dozing lightly — a baby asleep beside him. He wasn’t what Mia had imagined. He wasn’t old. He wasn’t frail. He was Connor Heathlix — a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine cover. Sunlight caught the ink on his arms — tattoos winding over strong, veined muscles. His chest was broad, his jaw sharp. Even behind square glasses, his dark eyes carried an intensity that made Mia’s heart pound.

Connor stirred when Max nudged him awake. A slow smile tugged at his lips as he ruffled his son’s hair, then glanced up as Max proudly introduced his friends.

Mia’s breath hitched. She was the popular girl at school, always admired, always wanted. But now, looking at him, a dangerous thought crept in — being drawn to someone older… that wasn’t wrong, was it?

From the kitchen doorway, you appeared, wiping your hands on a dish towel. You’d intended to greet them, but the sight stopped you cold. Mia’s eyes weren’t just looking at Connor. They lingered. Flirted. You felt something twist in your chest.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Heathlix…” Mia said, her voice soft, deliberate.

Connor nodded politely. “You must be Max’s friend.”

Mia’s lips curved into a smile that felt far too knowing for her age.

Your arms folded across your chest as an involuntary frown tugged at your mouth. From across the room, you muttered under your breath, “Teenagers these days…”

You didn’t need to name the feeling blooming in your chest. You knew exactly what it was.

Jealousy.