When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2075

Jon kept still, answering silence with silence.

Irritation flared in Felix's eyes. He reached out. “Hand over the mask now.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes, turned his back, and folded his arms as if Felix had vanished into thin air.

Felix's cheeks burned. This kid is ignoring him on purpose.

“How dare you ignore me!”

He lunged, fist closing on thin air, intent on ripping the mask away.

Jonathan reacted fast, shoving Felix aside with a single firm push.

Caught off guard, Felix staggered back several steps and landed hard on the polished floor.

Eyes wide, he sputtered, “Y-you pushed me!”

Still sitting on the floor, Felix craned his neck toward the showroom and hollered, “Mom! Mom! Someone's bullying me!”

The instant Miranda heard her son's panicked cry, she let the silk blouse slip from her fingers and charged toward the break room. Felix was on the polished marble, legs splayed, tears and screams ricocheting off the mirrored walls.

Miranda dropped to her knees beside him, gathering the trembling boy into her arms. “Sweetheart, what happened? Tell me who dared lay a hand on you?”

Felix thrust a pudgy index finger toward the lone child standing by the door, his voice a wail of accusation. “H-him! He shoved me down!”

Miranda followed the direction of that trembling finger. Behind a comic monkey mask stood a boy about Felix's age—calm, silent, unreadable. Rage flashed across her eyes like lightning over dark water. “Staff! Someone get in here, now!” she barked, her voice slicing through the boutique's hush.

Clacking heels hurried over as three sales associates appeared, the store's pastel uniforms fluttering like nervous butterflies.

They knew Miranda well. Her weekly shopping sprees paid their commissions and, more importantly, her family name could ruin their jobs with a single complaint.

Miranda balled her fists, glare swinging to the staff like the barrel of a gun. “Is this how you run a luxury boutique? Letting some unwanted child in and hurt my son?”

Unwanted child? The words echoed in the air, sharp enough to cut.

Her gaze iced over. “Do I need to phone your boss and explain?”

The mention of their boss broke their resistance. They shared a resigned glance and stepped toward Jonathan.

“Young man, please, this boutique isn't for you. Let's head outside, okay?” one coaxed.

“Mr. Felix, the mask belongs to him,” one explained gently. “We can't just take it.”

Felix stomped, refusing defeat. “Mommy, I want his mask,” he whined, eyes glistening with manufactured tears.

Miranda's answer came like a gavel. “The boy injured my son. His mask will serve as compensation. See that Felix gets it.”