Her phone was in her hand, attention drifting while the hallway buzzed with the end of the lunch bell. That’s when it happened—something warm and small clung tightly around her leg.

She froze. Looking down, she found a little boy with messy dark hair, eyes too big for his face, staring up at her like she was the only safe thing in the world.

“Mom!” he said, his voice bright and certain, as if he’d known her forever.

Her heart dropped. “Wait—what?” She tried to peel him off, but he only held tighter, burying his face against her skirt like the world outside was dangerous.

Whispers rose immediately. A kid calling her mom? In the middle of campus?

She crouched down, lowering her voice. “Sweetheart, I’m not—” But his eyes, wide and trembling, silenced her. Whoever he was, he looked scared. Vulnerable. Exposed.

And despite herself, she couldn’t push him away. Not with that expression.

She sighed, giving in. “Fine. You can stay close, just… don’t run off, okay?”

He nodded eagerly, relief softening his little face, and pressed against her side like she was truly his anchor.

By the time she got home, the weight of it pressed harder. Her parents looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “You brought a child into the house?”

“I couldn’t just leave him out there,” she defended. “It wasn’t safe. He… he called me mom.”

Her parents exchanged looks, skeptical but unwilling to argue further. They told her to sort it out quickly.

Later, when she sat him down with a warm drink, she asked gently, “What’s your name?”

The boy smiled, small hands gripping the cup. “Lucas. Lucas Blackwood.”

Her breath stalled.

Blackwood.

The name thrummed in her ears, pulling her into that dangerous daydream she never admitted out loud. The name tied to him. The one boy she could never reach but secretly wished for anyway.

“…Blackwood?” she echoed, her voice thin.

Lucas nodded proudly, as if it explained everything. “My daddy’s Asher Blackwood.”

Her chest went cold. That was impossible. Her dream guy—the one she’d silently pined for, the boy untouchable in his confidence, green flag wrapped in a storm of rumors. No way. No freaking way.

And yet—

The very next day, the impossible became reality.

The boy’s head shot up the second they stepped onto campus. “Daddy!”

Before she could stop him, he wriggled free and darted forward.

Her pulse skyrocketed. “Wait—don’t!”

But he was already in Asher Blackwood’s arms.

The entire hallway froze. Asher’s hand instinctively steadied the child against him, his sharp, calculating gaze breaking into something softer at the boy’s cling. But when his eyes lifted and found hers—everything shifted.

Confusion. Recognition. Static in the air.

She stumbled forward, reaching for the boy. “This isn’t what it looks like—”

But the child cut her off, voice shrill and proud:

“Daddy, I found her! That’s Mom!”

Silence. Heavy, electric silence.

Her chest caved. The whispers around them swelled like a storm, but all she could see was Asher. His unreadable stare. His jaw tight. The weight of every unanswered question pressing down.

“…Mom?” he repeated, voice low, dangerous, but not cruel.

Her words fumbled. “I don’t know why he’s saying that—I swear, Asher—”

But Asher’s expression wasn’t anger. It wasn’t accusation. It was something else entirely.

Disbelief.

“I don’t know what’s happening either,” he said finally, his voice hushed, steady, but threaded with unease.

The boy—Lucas Blackwood—clung tighter between them, looking so sure. So happy.

And in that hallway, in front of the whole world, the three of them stood—locked in a triangle of truth none of them understood.

Asher’s gaze burned into hers. “We’re figuring this out. Now.”