Dream

The night felt heavier than usual.

Evelyn lay stretched across the vast bed, her body sinking into the soft expanse of silk sheets. The room was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting long shadows across the pale cream walls. The cool air brushed against her skin, slipping beneath the delicate fabric of her nightgown—a thin, ivory slip that clung lightly to her frame.

She was slender, soft, her body lean with the subtle curves of a woman who had long ago abandoned vanity for survival. Her arms, delicate but firm, lay folded over her stomach, fingers absently gripping the fabric of her gown as though trying to anchor herself.

She should be sleeping.

She needed to sleep.

But the weight in her chest refused to let her rest.

Leo had spoken.

The thought sent a fresh shiver through her, one that had nothing to do with the cold.

For eight years, since the night of his father's death, her son had been trapped in silence. Before that, he had already been a quiet child, but after that night, it was as if his voice had been buried along with his father. Nothing she had tried had ever worked. Therapists, specialists, speech pathologists, even healers—all of them had failed.

She had accepted the truth long ago.

Her son would never speak again.

And yet…

Tonight, in the backseat of a car, with that man, Leo had looked up and spoken—as if his silence had never existed at all.

A soft, breathy whisper—"Thank you, sir."

The words played in an endless loop in her mind, over and over again, burning themselves into her skull. She had spent so long trying to hear his voice again, so many years chasing silence, accepting that she would never have that piece of him back.

And then, out of nowhere—it was back.

Not for her.

Not because of her.

The thought sent a strange, unfamiliar ache curling in her stomach.

Her son had spoken—but only for Adrian Voss.

Even thinking his name sent a shiver down her spine.

She had never met him before today, had only ever heard stories, whispers, rumors.

He was a man who needed no introduction. A man whose presence alone commanded power, respect, and fear.

The world knew him as the ruthless king of industry—the man who had turned Voss Enterprises into the empire it was today.

It had started with a small electronics company, just another face in the crowded market. But under his control, it became something unstoppable.

Now, Voss Enterprises ruled everything.

Entertainment, technology, real estate, finance, education, energy, military manufacturing—everything.

Even the country's Prime Minister owed his office to Adrian Voss.

If the Republic were renamed the Voss Empire tomorrow, no one would question it.

That was the kind of man he was. A man whose influence went beyond money, beyond power. 

And today, he had taken care of her son.

That was what confused her most.

Because the Adrian Voss she had seen today was not the monster the world spoke of. He had been quiet, controlled, unshaken.

But not unkind.

Leo had clung to him—curled into his lap like he belonged there. And he let him.

No pushing away. No cold rejection. Just stillness. Allowance.

A man who held entire economies in his palm, and yet he let her son sleep against him.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her nightgown, gripping it as something strange and unsettling settled inside her.

If Adrian Voss could cure Leo—if he could somehow bring back his voice—

Would she beg him for it?

Would she give him anything? Everything?

Even her own life—

She never finished the thought.

Sleep finally dragged her under.

It was cold.

Evelyn stood in a vast, endless hall of mirrors.

Their reflections stretched infinitely in every direction, glass twisting and bending slightly at the edges as if reality itself was warping.

A sense of wrongness settled deep in her bones.

And then—Leo.

He stood just ahead of her, barefoot on the marble floor, his small frame wrapped in the same formal clothes from earlier.

But he looked different.

Smaller. More fragile.

His body shimmered slightly, almost too delicate, too insubstantial, as if he wasn't quite real.

"Leo?" she called.

He didn't answer.

He just lifted his gaze to her, and her breath caught.

His dark eyes—once warm, once full of unspoken words—were empty.

Cold.

Distant.

The mirrors cracked.

A deep, splitting sound filled the air as fractures spread across the glass, veins of black shattering outward like spiderwebs.

A whisper curled through the air, low and possessive—

"Mine."

Evelyn whipped around, heart hammering, but there was nothing there—just shadows twisting at the edges of the mirrors.

She turned back to Leo—and froze.

He was no longer alone.

A man stood behind him.

Tall. Unmoving.

A hand rested lightly on Leo's small shoulder, fingers curling ever so slightly—possessive. Claiming.

Evelyn didn't need to see his face.

She already knew who it was.

Adrian Voss.

She tried to move, tried to reach for Leo—

But he didn't move.

Instead, he only tilted his head, lashes fluttering as he gazed up at the man behind him.

His lips parted.

"Thank you, sir."

The floor shattered beneath her feet.

She fell into blackness, her son's voice echoing through the void—soft, obedient, final.

A voice that no longer belonged to her.

Evelyn woke with a gasp, her body jerking upright.

The room was still dark, but the faintest hint of dawn was creeping through the curtains, casting a cold, gray light over the bed. Her breathing was ragged, her skin damp with sweat, her fingers still clenched in the silk sheets.

It had just been a dream.

Just a dream.

And yet—the unease did not leave her.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, pushing damp strands of hair back, trying to steady herself. Her heart was still racing.

She exhaled, trying to push away the absurdity of it.

Because that's all it was—absurd.

A ridiculous, meaningless nightmare.

The idea that Adrian Voss would steal her son from her? That he could somehow own him, claim him?

A breath of dry, mocking laughter slipped from her lips.

How utterly foolish.

Adrian Voss could buy entire countries, could bend the most powerful people in the world to his will, but her son?

Leo was not a business deal. He was not an acquisition.

He was hers.

As if a man like that could ever take him away.

She let out a slow, calming breath, releasing the last of the tension from her body.

The morning was approaching.

The city outside was already waking. She could hear the distant hum of traffic, the slow, steady pulse of life resuming.

With a sigh, she slid out of bed, her bare feet touching the cool marble floor.

It was time to start the day.

And yet, as she pulled her robe over her shoulders and stepped toward the bathroom—

The unease still clung to her.