Page 76 of Secret Heir

Her expression softens. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. When he first smiled. When he first walked. What his favorite toy was. What songs you sang to him.” I move closer, needing to be near her. “All of it.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then pulls out her phone. “I can show you some things if you want.”

My heart stutters. “Yes. Please.”

She scoots over, making room for me to sit beside her. Then she opens her photo gallery, and my world narrows to the small screen showing me my son’s life.

Daniel as a newborn, tiny and red-faced, wrapped in a hospital blanket. Aria holding him, looking exhausted but radiant.

Daniel at six months, sitting up, a gummy smile wide and joyful.

Daniel taking steps, wobbling toward Aria’s outstretched hands in what looks like a cramped apartment.

“He was eleven months,” Aria says softly, smiling at the photo. “He was so determined. He kept trying even when he fell.”

Daniel on his first birthday with a cupcake, frosting smeared all over his face.

Daniel at two, running through a park, his laughter captured in a video clip.

She scrolls through years of photos and videos, narrating each one. Daniel’s first day of preschool. Daniel learning to ride a tricycle. Daniel at Halloween dressed as a pirate. Daniel asleep with that rabbit that’s still his favorite.

I watch every single one, memorizing details, trying to fill in the gaps of the years I lost.

Her phone, while beat up, is filled with pictures and videos of Daniel’s childhood. It’s the most valuable thing I’ve ever seen. I want to ask her to give me the phone so I can put all these precious pictures and videos onto a hard drive and I can look at them whenever I want.

“He said his first word at ten months,” she tells me. “It was ‘mama’ which surprised me as that’s not typically a baby’s first word. I cried for an hour.”

“What should his first word have been?” I ask, unable to tear my eyes away.

“Papa,” she whispers. “It should have been Papa.”

The admission makes my throat close up. I pull her closer, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, and she leans into me as we continue scrolling.

By the time we’ve gone through them all, I’m barely holding it together. Years of my son’s life, compressed into a few thousand photos. So much I missed. So much I can never get back.

“Thank you,” I manage. “For showing me.”

“I should have—” Her voice breaks and she takes a deep breath. “You should have been there. For all of it. I’m sorry.”

I tilt her face up to mine. “We can’t change the past. But we can make sure I don’t miss anything with this baby.” I place my hand over hers on her stomach. “I’m going to be there for everything. Every appointment. Every milestone. Every moment.”

“I know.” She covers my hand with her free one. “I can see it in how you are with Daniel. You’re a good father, Maksim.”

Her admission makes my cheeks warm. “I’m trying to be.”

“You are.” She shifts to face me more fully, the blankets falling to her lap. “You’re patient with him. You teach him things. You make time for him even when you’re busy. You love him.”

“Of course I love him. He’s my son.”

“Not all fathers—” She stops herself, her face sad, before she continues. “My father loved me, but he was always working. He was always too busy. You’re not like that. You make Daniel feel important and wanted.”

The words settle into my chest, warm and precious. “He is important. He’s everything.”

“So is this baby.” Her hand moves under mine, a gentle circle over her stomach. “I want you to know—I want this baby. I know I panicked at first, but I want them.”

“So do I.” I lean my forehead against hers. “More than I can say.”