Claire went still.
Alexander immediately regretted the question.
Her eyes hardened.
“You think I would let you walk in here if they weren’t?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You did.”
He took a breath.
“I’m sorry.”
The words sounded inadequate.
Claire folded her arms.
“So now you know.”
Alexander looked toward the doorway.
A paper rainbow had been taped crookedly to the wall.
Beneath it were two small handprints painted in blue and yellow.
His children.
The phrase felt impossible.
“I missed everything.”
Claire said nothing.
“The pregnancy.”
Silence.
“Their birth.”
Her jaw tightened.
“The first time they walked.”
She turned away.
“The first time they spoke.”
“Alexander.”
“I missed two years.”
“You missed more than two.”
He looked at her.
She spoke quietly.
“You missed the moment you had the chance to become their father.”
The words landed harder than any accusation.
Alexander walked toward the window.
Outside, Chicago continued as though nothing had changed.
Cars moved through the intersection. People hurried along the sidewalk. A bus stopped at the corner.
Somewhere in one of the towers visible between the buildings, hundreds of employees worked for companies he owned.
And none of that mattered.
“I want to meet them.”
Claire stared at him.
“You already did.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
Her answer was immediate.
“And the answer is not today.”
Alexander turned.
“I’m their father.”
“Biologically.”
He flinched.
Claire noticed.
A part of her seemed to regret it, but she did not take the word back.
“You cannot appear after three years and expect them to understand who you are.”
“I don’t expect that.”
“Then what do you expect?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer surprised them both.
Alexander Moretti always knew.
He knew acquisition prices.
He knew political risks.
He knew market projections.
He knew which hotel chains were undervalued and which neighborhoods would become profitable five years before anyone else noticed.
But standing before Claire, he had nothing.
“I want a chance,” he finally said.
Claire studied him.
“A chance for what?”
“To know them.”
“And what happens when you become uncomfortable?”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“No, Alexander.”
She walked closer.
“You once told me you didn’t want children because you were afraid they would permanently connect you to a marriage you weren’t sure about.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“Claire—”
“So tell me something.”
Her voice softened.
“What changed?”
He looked toward the back room.
“They exist.”
Claire’s expression shifted.
“That’s not enough.”
“It is for me.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
Alexander frowned.
She continued.
“You don’t get to love children because they prove something about you. You don’t get to see your eyes in Leo’s face and suddenly decide you’re ready.”
“That isn’t what this is.”
“Then what is it?”
He searched for an answer.
What was it?
Regret?
Guilt?
Shock?
Possession?
Love?
Could a man love children he had known existed for less than an hour?
Maybe not.
But he knew one thing.
He had seen Lily hide behind Claire’s apron.
He had heard Leo say he was helping.
And something inside him had changed permanently.
“I don’t know what this is yet,” Alexander admitted.
Claire’s expression softened by the smallest degree.
“But I know I don’t want to walk away again.”
A noise came from the doorway.
Both adults turned.
Leo stood there.
He held a red toy truck against his chest.
“How come Mommy is sad?”
