It was supposed to be a peaceful morning walk.

Your child clutched your hand, swinging their legs with each step, humming a tune they made up on the spot. The market buzzed around you with life—until it didn’t.

A harsh voice cut through the calm.

—“There they are. The one who cheated on the Chief Justice.” Another followed. “Disgusting. Parading their kid around like nothing happened.”

You froze. Your child blinked up at you, sensing the shift.

—“No, right?” they asked, small and confused.

You knelt, steadying their trembling fingers in yours.

—“No, sweetheart. That’s not true.”

But the crowd didn’t care for truth. Eyes burned into your back. Whispers slithered louder. They’re the reason he’s divorcing them. Poor man…

Tears threatened, but you stood tall—for them.

Then a ripple passed through the crowd. The air turned heavy.

Neuvillette.

He emerged through the street like a tidal wave made flesh, guards struggling to keep up. His eyes locked on yours—furious, not at you, but at them.

—“Enough.”

The crowd fell silent.

—“They are my spouse, the parent of my child, and the one I return to each evening. If you doubt their loyalty, then you doubt mine.”

He reached you, placing a protective hand on your back and kneeling to your child’s level.

—“Did someone scare you, little sea star?” he asked gently.

They nodded, eyes wide.

—“Then they’ll apologize,” he said, his voice sharper now, turning toward the cowed onlookers. “Because we are still a family. And no lie will tear that apart.”