**Chapter 9: Fooled by a Child** Phoebe paused, her mind racing, but she shook it off. After all, Calvin was just a child; she didn’t believe he would pose any real threat to her. "No, I'm not angry," she replied, her voice softening. "Your mommy and I are good friends. But where is your mommy?" She bent down to meet Calvin’s curious gaze, trying to bridge the gap between adult and child. Calvin frowned slightly, his skepticism apparent. "Mommy isn't here," he stated plainly, and Phoebe could see he didn’t quite trust her claim of friendship. The absence of Violet was a golden opportunity for Phoebe. She had to tread carefully now. “Did you come with your father?” she asked, a hint of eagerness creeping into her tone. As she reached out to gently tousle Calvin's hair—hoping to snag a single strand for a DNA test—Calvin instinctively stepped back, a flicker of unease crossing his small face. Frustration bubbled beneath the surface; this was proving harder than she had anticipated. “Yes, I came with my father,” Calvin replied, clearly aware that Phoebe held her own agenda. His innocent words caught her off guard. Was it possible that he genuinely had a father? Losing her composure, Phoebe pressed on, a tinge of impatience threading through her voice. “What is your father's name? Where is he now?” Her inquiry felt urgent, almost desperate. Calvin scrutinized her expression, struck by the contradiction. “Miss, aren’t you my mommy's best friend? Why don’t you know my father?” His innocent tilt of the head brought a sudden halt to Phoebe's thoughts. The smile on her face faltered, a perplexed silence stretching between them. After several beats, she stammered, “Oh, I didn’t attend your mommy’s wedding.” The lie hung in the air, flimsy and transparent, and Calvin pierced through it with the keen sight of a child whose world didn’t include deception. His mother had never had a wedding. Something in her demeanor shifted, a spark of understanding crossing Calvin’s mind. He sensed she knew more than she let on but quickly decided that his concern for his mother outweighed any further probing. Just as a clever idea struck him, he declared, “My father is outside. I’ll call him in!” Without waiting for Phoebe to respond, he dashed away, weaving through the crowded store. Phoebe stood frozen for a couple of minutes, glancing in every direction for Calvin's return. But he never came back. Agitated now, she stepped outside to search but found only a kaleidoscope of faces, and Calvin was nowhere in sight. Then it hit her—she had been outsmarted! A child had tricked her! Meanwhile, Calvin sprinted ahead, anxiety spurring him on as he didn’t want Mommy to worry. In his haste, he collided with a stranger at the corner, stumbling slightly. “I’m sorry, Sir,” he exclaimed, looking up with wide, earnest eyes. Stanley descended from his height, his cold gaze landing on the small face before him. A strange jolt ran through him as recognition stirred—there was something undeniably familiar about this boy. Fraser, trailing closely behind, couldn’t help but feel astonished; the resemblance to his president was uncanny! Caught in a sudden silence, the two stared at each other, and Calvin, sensing no hostility from the imposing figure, darted away without a backward glance. It wasn’t until Stanley had gathered himself that the weight of the moment pressed on him. Shaking off the encounter, he resumed his brisk pace, determination etched into his features. But just as he was halfway through the mall, Calvin’s figure flickered in his mind again, and he stopped, glancing back. To his dismay, the small boy had vanished among the throngs of shoppers. Brow furrowing in contemplation, Stanley couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen this boy before, or at least someone like him. Once he finished his duties at the mall, he climbed into his car, the engine rumbling to life as he drove back toward Murphy Group. Leaning against the seat, he stared out the window, lost in thought, yet the vibrant scene passing by failed to capture his attention. Instead, he lingered on the image of the little boy—his small face, the innocent spark in his gaze—and the echo of unanswered questions hung heavy in the air.