Three weeks after I moved into the Blackwood mansion, Oliver stopped calling me “that woman.”

Instead, he called me Clara.

A week later, he upgraded me again.

“Clara-mom.”

The first time he said it, I nearly dropped his bowl.

Ethan, who was reading documents across the breakfast table, slowly raised his eyes.

Oliver continued eating as if nothing had happened.

I cleared my throat.

“Oliver, you can just call me Clara.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He pointed his spoon at me.

“Because Clara feeds me. Clara sleeps beside me when I have nightmares. Clara knows Dyna is stronger than Tiga—”

“That is highly debatable.”

“AND,” he shouted, “Clara hugs me when Dad makes me angry.”

Ethan calmly turned a page.

“I see I’m financing my own opposition.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

Life in the mansion had become strangely comfortable.

Too comfortable.

I kept reminding myself that this was temporary.

I was an employee.

Ethan was my employer.

Oliver needed someone patient, and I needed somewhere to rebuild my life.

Nothing more.

Then one rainy afternoon, my past appeared at the front gate.

My ex-husband, Daniel Bennett.

He stood beneath a black umbrella, staring at the mansion as though he couldn’t understand how the woman he had thrown onto the street had ended up there.

When I stepped outside, his eyes moved over my clean dress, my healthy face, then toward the enormous house behind me.

His expression changed.

“So it’s true.”

“What?”

“You found another man immediately.”

I almost laughed.

Daniel had cheated on me, emptied our joint account, and kicked me out with one suitcase.

Yet somehow, I was the shameless one.

“I work here.”

His mouth twisted.

“Doing what?”

Before I could answer, a tiny figure ran out behind me.

“Mom!”

Oliver wrapped both arms around my leg.

Daniel froze.

I froze too.

Then Ethan appeared in the doorway.

He wore a charcoal suit and carried Oliver’s forgotten jacket in one hand.

His gaze moved from Daniel to me.

“Problem?”

Daniel recognized him immediately.

Everyone did.

His face lost color.

“Mr. Blackwood.”

Ethan ignored him and looked at me.

“Clara?”

Just my name.

But there was something in his voice that made it clear the decision was mine.

I looked at Daniel.

“There’s no problem. He was leaving.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened.

“You’ve changed.”

“No,” I said quietly. “I just stopped being afraid of disappointing you.”

For once, he had nothing to say.

He left.

That evening, I found Ethan alone in the kitchen.

The richest man in the city was attempting to make hot chocolate.

Badly.

There was cocoa powder on the counter.

Milk on the floor.

And somehow chocolate on his white shirt.

I stared.

He stared back.

“Not one word.”

I burst out laughing.

That was the first time Ethan Blackwood laughed with me.

Not the polite smile I had occasionally caught.

A real laugh.

Warm.

Unprotected.

Dangerous.

Because that was the moment I realized my biggest problem was no longer Daniel.

It was Ethan.

I was beginning to love the life I had accidentally entered.

And perhaps the man inside it.

So I decided to leave before I could make another mistake.

Two days later, I placed a resignation letter on Ethan’s desk.

He read it once.

Then again.

“Why?”

“I’ve saved enough money for a small apartment.”

His face became unreadable.

“So?”

“So I should start my own life.”

“And this isn’t your life?”

The question hit harder than I expected.

I forced a smile.

“It was never supposed to be.”

His eyes darkened.

“Is this because of your ex-husband?”

“No.”

“Then because of me?”

I couldn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

Ethan stood.

For one terrifying second, I thought he might say something that would destroy every boundary between us.

Instead, the door burst open.

Oliver stood there.

He had heard everything.

His little face crumpled.

“You’re leaving me?”

“Oliver—”

“You said you wouldn’t!”

“I never said—”

“You’re bad!”

He threw the Ultraman figure in his hand onto the carpet and ran.

I found him beneath the dining table.

Exactly where I had found him the first night.

Only this time, he wasn’t angry.

He was crying.

I crawled underneath and sat beside him.

After a long silence, he whispered:

“Everyone leaves.”

My heart broke.

So I stayed.

Not because Ethan asked me to.

Not because I needed the room anymore.

I stayed because somewhere between superhero dinners, barking contests and bedtime stories, Oliver had become mine too.

Months passed.

Then came the Blackwood Foundation gala.

Ethan insisted I attend.

Halfway through the evening, I heard a familiar voice.

“Clara.”

Daniel.

He was standing beside several business partners, looking much more confident than the last time.

His eyes traveled over my evening dress.

“So this is what you’ve become?”

I said nothing.

He smiled condescendingly.

“I suppose you finally understand where you went wrong in our marriage.”

Before I could respond, a furious little voice exploded behind me.

“Wrong?!”

Oliver marched between us in a miniature tuxedo.

“My mom is the best in the world!”

The room went silent.

Daniel stared at him.

Then at me.

“Mom?”

Oliver planted both hands on his hips.

“Yes! My mom!”

Daniel laughed awkwardly.

“Clara, seriously? You’re letting someone else’s child call you—”

A hand settled gently around my shoulders.

Ethan.

Daniel immediately stopped speaking.

Ethan’s expression was calm.

“My son is correct.”

Daniel swallowed.

Ethan looked down at me, then back at him.

“And my wife, even when she is wrong…”

He paused.

“…is right.”

I nearly choked.

Daniel’s face was priceless.

But I was too shocked to enjoy it.

Wife?

When Daniel finally disappeared into the crowd, I turned on Ethan.

“Your wife?”

Oliver clapped delightedly.

“Yes! Finally!”

“Oliver!”

Ethan looked completely unbothered.

“I needed a fast explanation.”

“You could have said employee!”

“Too complicated.”

“Friend?”

“Not accurate.”

I stared at him.

“What exactly is accurate?”

For the first time since I had met him, Ethan Blackwood looked nervous.

Then he reached into his pocket.

Oliver gasped dramatically.

“Oh! The ring!”

My mouth fell open.

Ethan closed his eyes.

“Oliver.”

“What? You said it was secret.”

“It was secret until you announced it.”

“Oh.”

Ethan looked at me again.

Then he took out a small velvet box.

“I originally wanted a stepmother for my son,” he said quietly. “Someone patient. Someone who wouldn’t be frightened away by him.”

Oliver frowned.

“I’m not frightening.”

We ignored him.

Ethan continued.

“Then you arrived and turned my dining room into a superhero battlefield, taught my son to eat beside a dog, argued with me about bedtime, and somehow made this house feel like a home.”

My eyes burned.

“I don’t want an employee anymore, Clara.”

He opened the box.

“I want you to stay because you choose us.”

Oliver grabbed my hand.

“Choose us!”

I laughed through my tears.

A year earlier, I would have believed losing my marriage meant losing everything.

Instead, being thrown out of one house had led me to the first place that truly felt like home.

I looked at Oliver.

Then at Ethan.

“Yes.”

Oliver screamed so loudly that half the ballroom turned around.

Ethan slipped the ring onto my finger.

And years later, the framed advertisement still hung in our hallway.

“Stepmother wanted. Food and accommodation included.”

Underneath it, Ethan had added one handwritten sentence:

Position filled permanently. pasted