Chapter 167
~ Annie ~
Clinton’s birthday was tomorrow, and I was determined to make it special. My plan was simple yet thoughtful: surprise him at his apartnt with a homade cake, then take him to Jovita, his favorite restaurant in Queens, for a quiet dinner. Since he would be busy with work all day, evening felt like the perfect ti.
I sat on the porch swing, gently rocking back and forth as the late afternoon sun ward my skin. My laptop was open on my lap while I tried to secure a reservation on Jovita’s website. The soft creak of the swing mixed with the distant sounds of the estate grounds.
Uncle Dorian’s sleek car pulled up the driveway, followed closely by Kieran Townsend—his ever-present, stern-looking bodyguard. Kieran’s cold, unreadable expression always gave an uneasy feeling.
"Hey, Uncle Dorian," I greeted him as he climbed the porch steps.
"Annie," he replied curtly, barely glancing at .
"What are you doing?" he asked, stopping near the swing.
"Oh, just trying to make a reservation at Jovita for and Clinton tomorrow," I answered brightly.
"You and Clinton?" His brow furrowed slightly.
"Yes. Tomorrow is his birthday," I reminded him.
"Oh," he said, sounding genuinely surprised.
"You didn’t know tomorrow is Clinton’s birthday?" I asked slowly, watching his reaction.
"Honestly? I didn’t. I must have been too busy lately. I completely forgot," he chuckled softly, but the laugh felt forced.
I stared at him for a mont. "Well, he’s your son. I think you should pay closer attention to what’s going on in his life."
Uncle Dorian’s expression hardened. "He’s the owner of his own life now. He can do whatever he wants with it."
The cold dismissal in his voice reminded of what Clinton had revealed about being disowned. I sat up straighter on the swing.
"Can I ask you sothing, Uncle Dorian?"
He exchanged a quick glance with Kieran before turning back to . "What is it?"
"I’ve been trying not to say anything, but I can’t hold it in anymore. Since I ca back to the estate, Clinton hasn’t co to see you once, even though he visits here. Why is that?"
Uncle Dorian frowned deeply, then let out a long sigh. "It’s nothing that concerns you, Annie girl. It’s between him and , so don’t bother yourself with it."
He started to walk past toward the mansion door, but I stood up quickly.
"But that’s the thing, Uncle Dorian. It does bother . The father-son bond you two used to have... it’s gone. Clinton won’t talk about it, and neither will you. I’m just trying to help."
"You aren’t helping at all," he snapped, his voice turning sharp. "Instead, you’re making it worse by prying. I suggest you stop asking questions and just respect yourself, Annabel."
The way he used my full na and the hostile glare in his eyes caught off guard. This wasn’t the warm, caring Uncle Dorian I rembered. His tone felt cold and dismissive. Was this the sa arrogance that had driven Clinton away?
"Okay," I said quietly, lowering my gaze.
"Good," he replied curtly. He turned to Kieran. "et in my study in five minutes."
Kieran gave a silent, obedient nod. Uncle Dorian disappeared inside the mansion without another word, leaving standing on the porch, stunned.
That evening, I busied myself in the kitchen, baking a chocolate-vanilla cake for Clinton’s birthday. The rich scent of lting chocolate filled the air as I whisked the batter.
My mother walked in, wiping her hands on a towel. "You could have let help you with the cake."
"There’s no need," I smiled. "I know how to make one, and I learned from the best."
"I’m a good teacher then," she said proudly, returning my smile.
"Can’t believe he’ll be thirty-two tomorrow," she mused. "I still see him as that little boy running around the estate. How ti flies."
"Indeed," I agreed softly.
"So, what’s the plan for his birthday?" she asked, leaning against the counter.
"I’ve made a reservation at Jovita. I’ll surprise him at his apartnt with this cake, then we’ll head to dinner. I wanted to go earlier, but I know he’ll be busy with work all day, so evening is best."
"That’s a lovely plan, honey," my mother said, folding her arms. "Though I think you should take things slow with him."
"In what way?" I asked, pausing mid-whisk.
"You ntioned that Clinton doesn’t love you the way you love him. I’m not saying your plan is bad, but if you’re doing all this hoping to win his heart back, maybe slow down a little."
Her words made sense, but I wasn’t ready to hear them. "Mom, it’s his birthday. I just want to do sothing nice for him. I haven’t been able to do this since I left for college. Now that I’m here, it feels like the perfect ti."
"I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all," she said gently.
"I know." I glanced at her, then back at the bowl. "What flavor are you making?"
"He likes chocolate and vanilla, so I’m going with chocolate."
"Wise choice, honey."
We fell into a comfortable silence as I finished mixing the batter and poured it into the pans. Once the cake was in the oven, my mother spoke again.
"Ayanna called this afternoon. I spoke with her soon-to-be mother-in-law."
"How did that go?" I asked.
"Good, I suppose. She ca across a bit snobbish, but I can handle her."
"I know you can," I laughed softly.
We talked more about Ayanna’s wedding, the colors, and travel plans. I deliberately left out my tense conversation with Uncle Dorian. I didn’t want to ruin this peaceful mont with my mother by bringing up his sudden coldness.
As the cake baked and filled the kitchen with its warm, sweet aroma, I tried to focus on tomorrow’s celebration. But deep down, Uncle Dorian’s harsh words and the growing distance between him and Clinton lingered in the back of my mind like a shadow I couldn’t quite shake.
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