Grace searched his face.
“You don’t take him.”
“No.”
“You don’t put men around the house.”
“No.”
“You don’t walk into his school.”
“No.”
“You don’t tell him anything until we agree.”
Dominic hesitated only once.
Then: “Agreed.”
Grace folded her arms.
“And if I say you have to earn this slowly?”
His eyes met hers.
“I’ve already lost seven years by moving too fast.”
The test was arranged privately after Christmas.
When the result came, Dominic did not open it in one of his offices.
He returned to Grace’s kitchen.
The same table.
The same blue folder.
Grace sat across from him while he opened the sealed report.
The scientific language took up most of the page, but only one conclusion mattered.
Dominic was Noah’s biological father.
He read it twice.
Then placed the report down carefully.
Grace expected anger.
Instead Dominic covered his mouth with one hand.
For several seconds, the feared Dominic Russo looked like nothing more than a man trying not to fall apart in a quiet kitchen.
“What happens now?” Grace asked.
He lowered his hand.
“That depends on you.”
“And Noah.”
“And Noah.”
They told him together several days later.
Grace sat beside Noah on the couch.
Dominic chose the chair opposite them, leaving space rather than claiming it.
Noah listened with unusual stillness.
When Grace finally explained that Dominic was his father, the boy stared at him.
“That’s why we have the same eyes?”
Dominic swallowed.
“Yes.”
Noah looked at Grace.
“Did he know?”
“No,” Grace said.
The answer mattered.
Noah absorbed it.
Then he turned back to Dominic.
“Are you leaving again?”
Dominic could have promised anything.
He could have sworn no force on earth would remove him.
Instead he gave the boy the only promise he knew he could keep without stealing control from Grace.
“Not unless you and your mom ask me to.”
Noah thought about that.
Then he pointed toward the floor.
“The bridge broke again.”
Dominic’s eyes burned.
“Want help?”
