Dilemma

The sun had barely begun its ascent when Giselle Reinhardt stirred awake. The quiet hum of the estate felt peaceful at this hour—before the rush of her children's morning routine, before the world outside demanded her attention. She lay still for a moment, savoring the warmth beside her, the solid presence of Logan Reinhardt.

His arm was draped over her waist, heavy and possessive even in sleep. His breathing was steady, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against her back a familiar comfort. Giselle turned slightly, catching a glimpse of his face—relaxed, but still carrying the weight of a man who never truly let his guard down.

She reached out, fingers tracing lightly over his jawline. Logan stirred, his grip tightening slightly around her. Without opening his eyes, his voice, thick with sleep, rumbled against her skin.

"Too early."

Giselle huffed a small laugh. "I have a kitchen to run. And children to get ready for school."

His grip didn't loosen. Instead, he pulled her closer. "They can manage."

She smirked. "You say that like you're not about to get up and check on them yourself."

One eye cracked open, sharp even in the early morning light. "You make it sound like a bad thing."

"It's not," she admitted. "It's just predictable."

Logan exhaled, finally loosening his hold just enough for her to move. Giselle sat up, stretching, and he watched her with that unreadable gaze of his. Even after all these years, even after five children, there was something in his expression that made her feel as if he were still trying to memorize her.

"You're staring."

"Can you blame me?" He shifted, sitting up as well, his presence naturally commanding the space.

Giselle rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. "Flirting won't get you out of breakfast duty."

Logan sighed dramatically before swinging his legs over the bed. "I suppose I should see to my responsibilities as a father."

She smirked. "That would be nice."

...

The Reinhardt household was already stirring by the time they made their way downstairs. The kitchen was a controlled chaos—Lester skimming through his phone, Levy attempting to balance a spoon on his nose while ignoring his untouched plate, and the twins whispering about their latest coding project.

And then there was Leina.

She sat quietly at the end of the table, eating with a slow, methodical precision. Her expression was neutral, but Giselle knew her daughter well enough to sense that something was on her mind.

Logan stepped into the room, and immediately, the energy shifted. It wasn't out of fear but rather an unspoken command of presence.

Levy noticed him first. "Oh no, he's in dad mode."

Logan shot him a look before moving toward Leina. He set a hand on the back of her chair, looking down at her with that quiet intensity of his.

"Something on your mind?"

Leina paused before shaking her head. "No."

He didn't look convinced. "Your debate team meeting is today."

"I know."

Logan studied her for a moment longer, then simply nodded. "Good."

Lester, ever the observant one, smirked from the other side of the table. "Dad's worried about you embarrassing the Reinhardt name."

Levy snorted. "More like he's worried about the boys in her class."

Logan sent them both a warning glance, and the table fell into amused silence.

Giselle, sipping her tea, watched the exchange with quiet amusement. Her husband was a force in the business world, a man who commanded respect with just a look. And yet, when it came to his children—especially his daughter—there was an unmistakable softness beneath his strict exterior.

...

Once the children were off to school, the house settled into a rare quiet. Logan had lingered in the kitchen, watching as Giselle moved about, preparing for her day.

"Are you heading to the restaurant?" he asked, watching her tie her apron.

She nodded. "It's shipment day. I need to make sure everything is in order."

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. "And after that?"

She smirked, knowing exactly what he was implying. "You don't trust me to stay out of trouble?"

He exhaled slowly. "I trust you. It's the secrets I don't trust."

Her hands stilled for a moment, but she recovered quickly. Turning, she met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "Then you trust me enough."

Logan held her gaze for a long moment before finally pushing off the counter. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against her waist. "Giselle—"

Before he could say more, her phone buzzed.

She frowned, checking the caller ID. The school.

Her stomach tightened.

She answered quickly. "Yes, this is Giselle Reinhardt."

The voice on the other end was urgent. "Mrs. Reinhardt, we need you to come to the school immediately."

Logan's entire demeanor changed in an instant, his body tensing beside her.

"What happened?" Giselle demanded.

"There was an incident." The administrator hesitated. "A man tried to grab your daughter. Security intervened, but he was saying strange things."

Giselle felt her breath hitch. "What things?"

"…He kept mentioning a name. Seagull."

The moment the word left the administrator's lips, Logan went rigid.

Giselle gripped the counter, her voice dangerously calm. "We're on our way."

She ended the call, her mind racing.

Logan was already moving. He grabbed his coat and the swiftly made their way out of the house.

And then, as if the universe wasn't done throwing her off balance, something at the gate caught her attention.

A figure.

She stopped in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat.

The man was barely standing, one arm bracing against the iron bars for support. His clothes were torn, his face bruised and bloodied. But those eyes—familiar, desperate—pierced right through her.

Giselle felt Logan tense beside her.

"…Seagull," she whispered.

The man—Seagull—lifted his gaze, his voice hoarse.

"…Giselle."

Before she could move, he collapsed.

Logan stepped forward immediately, his expression unreadable.

Giselle's heart pounded.

He was here.

And in a state she never thought she'd see him in.

The feeling of unease was far from being settled and Giselle was in a dilemma.