“Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” she replies.
I lower myself into the black chair, catty-corner to her.
“You’ve got a stunning view of the city,” she remarks.
I grin. “Thanks. I could spend hours people-watching.”
She pulls an envelope from her Hermès Birkin bag.
My heart pounds as she places the manila envelope in my hand.
“Thank you.”
Rising, she says, “You’re welcome. Best of luck.”
I stand as well. “I appreciate that.”
Dr. Calhoun quickly exits through the door.
Falling back into the chair, I rip open the envelope. My heart feels like it will explode in my chest. My eyes move across the paper. It read: child’s column and the alleged father’s column. My eyes drop to the words on the lower right. Probability of Paternity 99.9998%
“He’s my son. He’s my son,” I repeat.
Tears of joy spring to my eyes as I rest my elbows on my knees, palming my head with the paperwork still clutched in my hand. I sit there like that for about thirty minutes. Drinking it all in. I want to climb to the highest rooftop and tell the world Madden is my son. My blood. My legacy. The boy destined to inherit everything I’ve built.
But I can’t.
The safest place for my heir is in the shadows.
As much as it kills me, Madden has to remain my greatest secret.
A few days later, I arrive at Fia’s in the middle of the night. I arranged this visit with her prior to my arrival.
One of her bodyguards lets me in the back door. I step into the kitchen. Fia sits at the marble counter, nursing a mug of something. Smoke curls in the air.
“Hello, Nico.”
“Mrs. Cichello, how are you?”
“I’m well. How about you?”
A smile lifts my lips. “I’m overjoyed. Madden is my son.”
She grins. “Of course I knew that. He looks just like you. But it was important you took a paternity test. I wanted you to read it in black and white: that he’s your son.”
“I appreciate that. Can I see Madden?”
“Yes, he’s in his nursery. Serenity should be asleep for about four to six hours.”
“Thank you,” I say before darting out of the kitchen.
Yes, it’s wrong to have Serenity sedated. It’s also wrong of her to keep my son from me.
I walk into his nursery after dipping into the guest bathroom to wash my hands. Peering over the side of the crib, I take in his calm features and watch his chest rise and fall while he sleeps. “It’s daddy, Madden. I’m here.” I pick him up and cradle him in my arms as I slowly walk around the nursery fit for a prince.
My lips press against his forehead. “I want to spend every waking minute with you. This isn’t how I thought this journey would go. I planned to marry your mother, and we’d live under one roof. But Dad’s been busy. I’ve gone after bad men who wouldn’t blink to take you from me and Mommy if they learn you exist. I have to keep you and mommy safe. When the war is over, I’ll see to it that you both move to America.”
