“He looks just like you,” she said, stealing a glance at me.
I stared at the adorable little creature, searching for the resemblance. “On the outside, yes,” I replied. “But on the inside, I hope he’s more like you.”
Her smile gradually vanished, replaced by something a little more serious. She looked at me as though she could sense that something strange was going on in my head.
“If he’s more like me, he won’t survive in your world,” she said. “He won’t be able to lead the empire you’ve built. He’d let his emotions get the best of him all the time. And in this world, nothing is more dangerous than that.”
I let out a scoff. “You’re stronger than you think, my little lawyer.”
“And you’re not as bad as you think, my love,” she said, a faint grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“I guess we both don’t give ourselves the credit we deserve.”
“I guess not.” She chuckled lightly.
I leaned in, our lips inches apart.
“Before you let him kiss you, remember the pain you just survived,” a familiar voice cut through the stillness.
She smiled, her forehead resting on mine for a brief moment before turning toward the door.
Mikhail walked in, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand, the other buried in his pocket.
“Father, what’re you doing here?” I asked, my tone polite.
“I heard my daughter-in-law had gone into labor, and I decided to drop by.” He walked over to us and set the flowers beside her. “I hope you like them.”
Her smile broadened. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
“How’d you know when she went into labor?” I asked him, my gaze unwavering.
“Same way I know you both gave me a grandson,” he answered, his eyes falling on the infant in his mother’s arms. “You’re not the only one with eyes and ears everywhere, son,” he added.
Kiera noticed my discomfort with my father’s presence and mouthed, “Be nice.”
I twisted my face into a faint scowl in response, then faced my old man. “Do you mind? I wanna be with my family…alone.”
An awkward silence fell in the room, my wife’s gaze shifting across the two of us.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a quiet sigh. “It’s your turn to be a father now,” he said, meeting my gaze. “I hope you do better than I did.”
There was no hostility or venom or even traces of sarcasm in his tone. It was as though he actually meant what he said.
He lingered a little longer before turning toward my wife with a curt nod. “Kiera.”
She flashed him a faint grin.
Quietly, he stepped out of the ward and closed the door behind him.
She stared at me with a mock scowl on her face. “I told you to be nice.”
“I was. That was me being nice.”
“What’s the deal with you two anyway?”
A pause.
“Let’s just say he wasn’t exactly Father of the Year.”
