Chapter 2
Chapter 2
The morning light slanted across the glass doors of the studio, cutting harsh shadows along the floor. Naomi stood frozen against the cherry conference table, clutching a portfolio against her chest as if it were armor.
Her knuckles turned bone white where her fingers gripped the leather folder. The silver hoops at her ears caught the sun, casting small shivering rings against her neck. She looked fiercely grounded, yet entirely cornered.
The silence between us swelled until every breath felt loud and painful. Five years of unanswered letters, hidden records, and wounded pride hung in the air, heavy enough to choke whatever words I had planned to say.
I looked at the stuffed rabbit in my right hand, feeling foolish and completely stripped of authority. For a man who controlled half of Manhattan, I had never felt more powerless than standing before Naomi Ellis.
“I came to return something that belongs to our daughter,” I whispered, keeping my voice low. The word felt sacred on my tongue, unfamiliar yet deeply rooted in every beat of my chest that refused to calm.
Naomi took a quick, involuntary step backward until her waist pressed into the edge of the conference table. Her dark eyes widened in sharp terror before hardening into pure, unyielding fury that scorched through my defense.
“You have no right to use that word in front of me,” she said, her voice shaking violently with restrained tears. “You gave up every possible claim to her four long years ago when you abandoned us completely.”
“I did not abandon you, Naomi,” I replied softly, stepping forward by an inch and stopping instantly when her jaw tightened. “I did not know she existed until yesterday afternoon at thirty thousand feet above the clouds.”
She let out a harsh, bitter laugh that cracked midway through her throat. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you never saw the letters, the certified notices, or the urgent messages I sent your private office?”
“My former chief of staff intercepted every single communication you sent,” I explained, holding out the folded paper printouts Daniel had recovered. “They screened my personal archives without my consent to protect an empire that meant nothing.”
Her gaze dropped to the printed email timestamps, her chest rising and falling beneath her tailored linen blouse. Confusion warred with stubborn resentment across her pale features, cracking the cold mask she had worn for years.
“Even if that monstrous lie were true,” she said, her voice dropping to an agonized whisper, “it does not change four years of solitude. You were not there when her first fever spiked in an empty apartment.”
“I know,” I replied, feeling the raw cut of her words sink deep into my marrow. “I know I was absent for every scraped knee, every sleepless night, and every single triumph she shared only with you.”
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, refusing to let her tears spill. “Julie called me in total panic last night. She said you cornered her on the plane and terrified her with cold questions.”
“I did not corner your sister,” I answered gently. “Lily dropped her sketchbook beside my shoes. She showed me her drawings, and then she looked at me with my own eyes and spoke your beloved name.”
Naomi closed her eyes tightly, as though blocking out the memory of that fateful plane ride. When she opened them, wet trails glistened along her cheeks, catching the pale morning light pouring through the wide glass.
“She does not know what you are capable of, Alessandro,” she said quietly. “She only knows the stories I invented to keep her from wondering why she had nobody to walk her to preschool like other children.”
“What did you tell her?” I asked, feeling my heart contract painfully within my ribs. I dreaded the answer, yet I needed to carry every grain of truth she had shouldered entirely on her own shoulders.
“I told her that her father was a man who carried storms in his chest,” she murmured, her chin trembling slightly. “I told her he was busy guarding kingdoms far away and could not find the road home.”
The honesty in her confession shattered the last remnants of my arrogant pride. She had not poisoned Lily’s heart against me; she had shielded our little girl from the bitter cruelty of feeling unwanted and forgotten.
“I am home now, Naomi,” I said, extending Bunny forward toward the polished mahogany table. “I found the road yesterday in seat 3B, and I have no intention of ever turning my back on either of you.”
May you like
Naomi stared at the worn stuffed rabbit sitting peacefully between our separate lives. Her hand trembled as she reached out, her fingertips brushing the soft fabric before pulling it slowly toward her trembling chest.
—END OF Chapter 2
