After a hearty, fun family dinner, Evelyn helped Oliver clean up and tucked him into bed.
The little boy, full from dessert and excitement, insisted on telling her one last story about meeting another grandfather before finally drifting off to sleep.
She tucked him in, kissed his forehead, and lingered for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall, her heart warm and heavy all at once.
Meanwhile, Axel led Finley to his study.
The room was quiet and refined, lined with dark wooden shelves and floor-to-ceiling windows that reflected the bright moon outside.
A bottle of champagne rested on the table between them, already opened, the two glasses half full.
Alone with Finley at last, Axel leaned back in his seat, studying the man across from him. Even now, it felt unreal.
"Seriously," Finley said with a laugh as he lifted his glass, "why do you still look like you are interrogating me? Do you think I forged a DNA report and stole your wife?"
