Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
Of course it didn’t.
Shaking her head, Helen stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut with a soft hiss.
But her mind was anything but calm.
It was haunted by Vincent’s words, his dominance, his certainty. She hated how easily he could reshape her world, how effortlessly he linked her life to his.
…
By the time Helen stepped into the apartment, a smile tugged at her lips.
There was her little boy, animatedly explaining his favorite cartoon to Dylan, who sat not far from him, looking utterly lost.
Oliver’s brows furrowed in frustration. His small hands gestured wildly as if that might help Dylan’s brain catch up.
“Dylan, stop asking me! I told you already, the white wolf is good. He helps his pack fight the bad wolf. The one you thought was good is actually the bad one.”
Dylan’s eyebrow wrinkled, looking unconvinced.
“Really? But the white wolf… he sounds bad.”
Oliver let out an exasperated sigh, his little head shaking in disbelief.
“No. No, no, no, the white wolf is not bad. Dylan, you need to start from the first season. This is already season two.”
Dylan chuckled and held up his hands in surrender.
“Alright, alright. I’ll download it on YouTube and catch up. Sorry, little man…”
Helen pressed a hand to her mouth to hide her laugh. ‘Such a cute baby…’
She saw Oliver’s expression, dead serious and completely fed up, which was priceless.
But then, as Helen looked closer, she noticed something that wiped the amusement right off her face. The tilt of his brow, the stubborn set of his lips, it was Vincent’s expression.
Her smile faltered.
She sighed, a heavy breath that carried the weight of tomorrow. The day everything would change. Their marriage would be finalized.
No matter how much she tried to keep calm, her nerves buzzed relentlessly under her skin.
Pulling herself together, Helen walked toward the living room.
The moment Oliver spotted her, his eyes lit up.
“Mommy! You’re back!” he said, his little voice bursting with joy.
Her heart melted. “Were you having fun with Dylan?” she asked, smiling at him.
Oliver didn’t answer, but his look said everything; his enjoyment level dropped somewhere around zero.
Helen almost laughed again.
“Lady Boss.” Dylan greeted her with an awkward grin. “Boss Vincent already left?”
Helen nodded. “Yes. You didn’t go back to the capital with him?”
“No, I’ve got a task to handle here in town.” He replied quickly, then rose to his feet. “I’ll head out now.”
“Thank you, Dylan, for keeping Oliver company,” Helen said warmly as she walked him to the door. “I hope he didn’t traumatize you.”
Dylan chuckled under his breath. “Of course not. He’s fun.”
Helen is trying to believe him. She knew her son too well. Oliver had probably made Dylan’s day just as exhausting. Still, she let the man go with a smile.
When she turned back, Oliver was still glued to the TV.
Helen sighed and crossed her arms. “Sweetheart…. that’s enough cartoons for today. You’ve had your time. No more until tomorrow.”
Her son gave her the look, a silent protest full of betrayal, but he obediently turned off the TV.
Guilt slowly appears in her heart at his gloomy little face. She softened and called after him before he could disappear into his bedroom.
“Oliver, we’re going to visit Grandma Martha this afternoon.”
Instantly, his eyes lit up again. “Yay! I miss Granny!”
Helen smiled, watching his excitement overflow. For a moment, the worries of tomorrow faded, replaced by the pure joy of her son’s laughter.
That afternoon…
“Are you sure you can walk this far?” Helen asked softly, glancing at Oliver as he walked towards the elevator, his small feet moving slightly slower. “I can carry you, sweetheart…”
Oliver’s small chin lifted slightly, looking at her. “No, Mommy. I’m already three. I can and I love to walk.”
Then, he stood on tiptoe and jabbed the elevator button, his eyes narrowing in intense concentration as he watched the flickering numbers above the door.
He looked so serious that Helen had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
“But sweetheart, you’re still recovering from your injury,” she reminded him gently but worry obviously could be heard in her voice. “I don’t think anyone would judge if you let me carry you.”
Oliver’s brows knit together as he turned to her, giving the same stubborn look Vincent had given her countless times.
“No, thank you, Mom…” he said firmly, slipping his small hand into hers. His grip was warm, steady, and far stronger than his size should have allowed.
Helen’s heart melted. She could argue, but what was the point? Her little man was determined to prove he was grown, even if his steps were slow and careful because of his injury.
“Let’s go, Mommy,” he said with a bright smile as the elevator doors slid open. “Granny must be waiting for us.”
Helen squeezed his hand gently, her smile softening.
She let the teasing die on her lips and simply followed his lead.
Her son wasn’t just walking, but he was already learning to carry her heart.
How sweet!
…
“No, honey, we are going to the basement…” Helen said as Oliver was about to press the first-floor button.
“Why are we in the basement, Mom?” Oliver asked, his tiny voice echoing as he looked at her curiously.
“We’re going to use a car to get to the cafe,” Helen answered, pressing the elevator button that led them to the parking lot.
“Car? Did you buy a car?” His voice shot up in excitement as his eyes scanned the basement the moment the elevator opened.
He spotted the shiny black SUV with a giant red ribbon and gasped. His little finger shot out toward it.
“Wow, Mommy, we finally own a car?” His whole face lit up, eyes sparkling like he had just discovered treasure.
Helen’s heart twisted.
The joy in his expression was almost too much for her to handle. He deserved this… he deserved everything. And yet, she’d never even thought of buying a car.
Walking everywhere had been enough for her, and when she needed to travel farther, taxis and Martha’s car had been the solution. But Vincent had been right. Again.
Not just for emergencies. Not just for convenience. But for moments like this, her son’s pure happiness.
‘Gosh, Elle. You’re so slow. You should’ve thought about this long ago.’ She silently scolded herself as she took Oliver’s hand and walked him toward the car.
“I didn’t buy this, sweetheart,” she admitted softly as she opened the door. “Your daddy did. It’s his gift. For you.”
Oliver’s eyes widened with awe as he climbed into the car, as if it were a spaceship.
His tiny hands explored the leather seats, and he whispered, “Wow, this car is amazing, mommy…”
Helen buckled him into his car seat, then sat behind the wheel herself after removing the giant ribbon.
“Mom, we should call Daddy!” Oliver announced as she started the engine.
Helen paused, her hands tightening around the steering wheel.
‘Call Vincent? Right now?’
She could practically hear his voice in her head. Imagine that man would drive her insane again, she dismisses the idea.
“Your dad’s busy right now,” she said gently, forcing a smile as she looked back at her son. “We’ll call him after dinner, alright?”
Oliver seemed to think about it, then nodded faintly, as if he was granting her special permission.
“Hmm… okay. Let’s go, Mom.”
She exhaled, relieved. She smoothly drove the car out of the basement parking lot.
