No Surprises

Claire waited until Leo had finished pushing the cereal around his bowl before she reached for the folded towel on the chair.

“Whose is this?”

He didn’t look at it. His spoon scraped the bowl once, then stopped.

“Not mine.”

“That’s funny,” she said. “It’s on your chair.”

Leo’s mouth tightened. He shoved back from the table so fast the chair legs squealed. “You’re gonna tell him.”

“I’m going to wash it.”

“It’s not trash.”

Claire kept her hands where he could see them. “Then tell me what it is.”

He stared at the counter instead of her face. One hand had drifted to the left pocket of his pajama pants, thumb hooked over it like he was checking something was still there.

Before he could answer, a small sound came from the hall. Soft feet. Then Silas’s voice from the doorway.

“Miss Morgan.”

He was already dressed for the day, dark coat, phone in one hand, coffee in the other. He looked at the breakfast room the way a man looks at a balance sheet. Leo went still.

Silas gave the towel a quick glance and then looked at Claire. “I trust breakfast is proceeding without incident.”

“It is,” Claire said.

His smile stayed on, thin and neat. “Good. Leo has a schedule. So do you. I don’t allow surprises in this house.”

“Then we’re aligned.”

Silas’s eyes moved to Leo. “Your son needs consistency. Not indulgence.”

Leo’s chair scraped again. He stood, shoulders pulled up, jaw set like he was bracing for a hit that hadn’t landed yet.

Claire said, “Eight-year-olds do better when they can breathe.”

Silas gave a quiet laugh that didn’t reach his face. “You’ll find this family has had enough opinions from staff.”

He set the coffee down on the sideboard. “Mind the boy’s boundaries, Miss Morgan. Others have mistaken my patience for weakness.”

“Noted.”

For one long second, he looked at her like he was deciding whether she was worth the trouble. Then he turned and walked out.

The room didn’t loosen until the front door shut.