The dial tone hummed against my ear, a cold, mechanical sound that felt like it was mocking me. I didn't move. I stayed anchored to the floor of the darkened suite, my eyes fixed on the street fourteen stories below.
Across the road, the sleek black Mercedes finally pulled away from the curb, its headlights cutting through the San Francisco fog like twin blades.
"I was wrong, Chloe. And I'm sorry."
His voice still echoed in the quiet room, a raw, gravelly sound that didn't belong to the King of the Reed Mafia. Asher Reed didn't apologize. He didn't admit fault. He was a man built of stone and iron, yet for a few seconds over the phone, he had sounded... human.
"It's too late for apologies, Asher," I whispered, my breath fogging the glass.
I turned away from the window, my skin crawling with the lingering tension of his promise. Section Four. He had insisted on surrounding me with his shadows, even after I had flatly refused his protection. He had ended the call before I could shove his "generosity" back down his throat. He still thought he could dictate the boundaries of my life, even from the seat of his car. He thought he was protecting me, but to me, his "protection" felt like a leash.
I walked quietly back to the bed, seeking the only peace I had left in this city. The soft glow of the nightlight cast long, dancing shadows across the walls. Leo was sprawled out under his duvet, his small hand tucked under his chin.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart aching as I studied him. In the dim light, the resemblance was a physical weight on my chest. The same stubborn set of the jaw, the same thick, dark lashes that brushed his cheeks—the same persistent nature that defined Asher Reed. Every time I looked at my son, I saw the man I had spent five years trying to forget. I saw the "breeding vessel" comment in the curve of Leo's innocent smile. I saw the rough-handling in the way Leo stood his ground when he was stubborn.
I reached out, smoothing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. I had faked my death to save this child from becoming a monster. I had built a fortress of science and medicine to keep the Mafia blood from boiling in his veins. I had spent years in the shadows of cheap apartments and sterile hospital rooms, constantly looking over my shoulder, all to ensure Leo would never have to know the weight of a gun or the coldness of a throne.
But now, the source of that blood was standing in our shadows, apologizing and playing the part of a reformed protector. The very man I had fled was now the one claiming to keep us safe.
I sighed, leaning my head back against the headboard. I needed to move. I needed to take Leo and disappear again before the Reed legacy swallowed us whole.
"Mommy?"
The small, sleepy voice made me jump. I looked down to find Leo's eyes open—wide, dark, and far too observant for a five-year-old. He wasn't rubbing his eyes or yawning. He was looking at me with an intensity that made my breath hitch.
"I thought you were asleep, baby," I whispered, trying to force a smile onto my trembling lips.
Leo didn't smile back. He sat up slowly, his gaze drifting toward the window where I had just been standing, then back to me.
"The tall man," Leo said, his voice small but steady in the quiet of the room. "The one from the hospital."
My pulse spiked. "What about him, Leo?"
He leaned forward, his expression so much like Asher's it made my blood run cold. "Is he my daddy? Is that why he looks like me?"
The air in the room suddenly felt thin. I had prepared a thousand lies for this moment over the last five years. I had already diverted his questions twice before, but Leo was too clever for his age. He wasn't looking for a story; he was looking for the truth. He had seen himself in the mirror, and then he had seen Asher.
Now, standing here with Asher's apology still ringing in my ears and Leo's persistent question hanging in the air, every lie I had ever crafted died in my throat.
****