It has been two years since my smile faded into oblivion.

Two years since I lost everything. Since I lost myself. Now, I exist in the hollow embrace of darkness, an echo of the person I used to be. I never imagined my life unraveling into this twisted fate, but here I am-adrift in the void.

I don't curse time or fate. No, the blame is mine alone. My choices, my decisions-they carved this path I now walk. Regret slams into my chest like a merciless sledgehammer, yet at times, a cruel whisper tells me I did the right thing. I don't know which feeling to hold on to, so I surrender to the current of life, letting it drag me wherever it pleases. Sooner or later, it will catch on something. Maybe then, I'll figure it out.

Until that day, I remained like this-shattered, barely a ghost stitched together by sarcasm and survival. A burden. A misplaced existence. But if I am doomed to this, at least I'll do it with a mouth that never learned restraint. Not my fault, though. Manufacturing defect.

I am a software engineer in one of the so-called best companies. The paycheck is enough to keep my world from crumbling further, to keep the one thing that still matters safe.

My son. Asher.

He is my everything. My light in an abyss that refuses to let me go. The reason my lungs still drag in breath, the force that compels me to function when all I want is to collapse.

Asher-my heart, my soul, my darling boy. His laughter is the only melody that doesn't feel like a cruel joke. His tiny arms, the only refuge where I don't feel like a mistake. He is love in its purest form, the only piece of me that isn't tainted, the only thing keeping me from sinking completely.

And for him, I will endure.

Asher is a whirlwind of energy, a tiny force of nature wrapped in endless enthusiasm. A born explorer, curious about everything, never hesitating, never afraid. Unlike most kids his age, he never protests about going to school. In fact, he wakes me up each morning, his little hands shaking me with determination, eager to start his day.

He doesn't just make friends-he collects them, weaving his magic on everyone he meets. His classmates, their parents, even the teachers-they all adore him, drawn in by the sheer light he radiates. Sometimes, I watch the way they look at him, the way they laugh at his jokes, ruffle his hair, and I swear a ridiculous twinge of jealousy burns in my chest. He's my son, though.

With his soft black hair, big brown eyes that sparkle like melted chocolate, chubby cheeks made for kisses, and those tiny lips that pout in the most heartbreakingly adorable way-even a predator would stumble, completely disarmed by his charm.

Whenever I show up at his school gates, his tiny legs propel him toward me at full speed. He launches himself into my arms, wrapping around me like I'm his entire world. And maybe, just maybe, I am.

His laughter, his smile-those are the only things I have ever yearned for, the only things I will never stop chasing.

"Ash, don't come down. Stay on the porch."

The lawnmower hums beneath my grip as I push it forward, slicing through the overgrown grass. It's ridiculous how fast this stuff grows. I swear I just mowed it-what, two months ago?

Okay... maybe I'm a little lazy when it comes to chores. But can anyone really blame me? I'm a full-time mother and a weekday software engineer. My schedule is tighter than my damn jeans after a cheat day. There's barely a second to breathe, let alone play housemaid. And with Asher keeping me on my toes 24/7, the last thing on my mind is a perfectly manicured lawn.

"Okay, Mommy! If I behave, will you give me jelly after you work?"

His tiny voice cuts through the mechanical drone, sweeter than sugar and warm enough to melt the coldest stone. He's leaning against the porch railing like an obedient little angel, but those big brown eyes are filled with mischief.

And now he's negotiating with me. Like his father.

My grip on the mower tightens. Yeah, let's not go there.

"Of course, Muffin," I chuckle, shaking my head as I keep mowing.

The weekend means an endless list of chores, but luckily, Asher is a clean freak-the exact opposite of me. His room is always spotless, his tiny laundry basket filled with neatly tossed clothes, his toys tucked away after playtime, and not a single food stain in sight. It's almost unnatural.

He gets it from him.

And if that wasn't enough, his face is a miniature replica of his father's too. Every sharp feature, every little expression, a perfect carbon copy of the man I don't even want to think about.

But at least Asher didn't inherit anything from me.

Me-Short-tempered. Full of attitude. The human embodiment of flipping the middle finger at life. Nothing soft, nothing delicate. No good traits worth passing down.

So yeah. Thank God for small mercies.

But what I don't know is where the hell Asher gets that full-on, always-ready-to-run-a-marathon stamina. I'm lazy as sin. His father, A certified introvert unless something pissed him off. Yet, here's our child-a tiny ball of endless energy.

Not that I'm complaining. Asher's wild, unstoppable enthusiasm somehow manages to light up even my dullest days.

"Mommy, when are we going to see Grandma? I miss her."

His voice drops to a soft, longing whisper, making my head snap up. God. His pout could break hearts.

"This evening." The words slip out before I can even think. Disappointing him is not an option.

The second those words register, his entire face lights up, eyes sparkling like I just promised him a lifetime supply of candy.

"You're the best mom in the universe, Mommy!" He sprints toward me, throwing his tiny arms around my leg, clinging like a koala.

I chuckle and scoop him up with ease, cradling him against my chest. His little giggle fills the air when I boop the tip of his nose, and I swear, if happiness had a sound, this would be it.

Then my phone rings.

Balancing Asher in one arm, I pull it out of my pocket. Wren.

I swipe to answer, pressing it against my ear.

"Wre-"

"WHY THE HELL ISN'T YOUR CODE RUNNING?!"

I wince, holding the phone a little away from my ear. Jesus Christ. This man has no volume control.

"Use my system, idiot."

"I am talking about your PC, Ev."

I exhale, already done with his dramatics. "The administrative side took care of my system yesterday. I complained about the lagging issue. They must've done something-probably didn't reinstall the proper interpreters yet. So, maybe ask them first.."

"Oh?" His long, relieved sigh echoes through the phone. "Then that should be fine."

"And..." I pause.

"Yeah?"

"DO NOT YELL AT ME, YOU STUPID AS-"

My jaw snaps shut just in time before a very colorful curse slips out in front of Asher.

Wide brown eyes blink up at me, ears tuned in to every word I utter. Crap.

I lean down and kiss his forehead, as if that will erase whatever he just picked up.

"Calm down, Eva" Wren chuckles. Laughs.

The audacity.

Oh, how I wish I could reach through the phone and slap that smug laugh right off his face.

Wren-my friend, colleague, and unfortunately, my team leader. A decent guy, really. Just... emotional as hell. The kind of person who constantly needs someone by his side, stroking his back, patting his shoulder, whispering, "It's going to be okay." Like a needy cat, but in human form.

He lives with his mother, no siblings. His father passed away in an accident, so he's been carrying the weight of taking care of her all on his own. I give him credit for that-being strong in a way that most people wouldn't understand.

Then there's Freya.

Freya is... well, Freya. The kind of woman who treats dating like a sport. Half the men in our office have already dated-and dumped-by her. If a guy asks her out, she'll say yes almost immediately. And then, Break up with him the next day. Or, if she's feeling particularly impatient, the same evening.

She's not playing games, though. No, she's looking for perfection. A man who is flawless, down to the damn molecular level. What that even means, I have no idea. But clearly, no one has met that impossible standard yet.

"Excuse me, Mr. TL, what the hell are you doing in the office? It's the weekend. Shouldn't you be drowning in laundry and scrubbing your floors like a responsible adult?" My voice drips with sarcasm. I know his routine-weekends mean house chores and taking care of his mom, nothing work-related.

"Monday is our project's deadline. HR already called and gave me an earful about clients, responsibility, and submitting on time like other teams." He sighs so dramatically I can almost see him rolling his eyes through the phone.

"That... sounds depressing." I barely contain my laugh.

"Do not laugh at my agony, you cruel woman."

"My arms are killing me. Call me if you need help-I'm hanging up." Holding a hyperactive four-year-old in one arm while balancing my phone in the other? Torture.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters before hanging up.

I shove my phone back into my pocket, only to be met with the most adorable little voice.

"Mommy, what's Intepeter?" Asher's big brown eyes gleam with curiosity. And thank God he didn't ask about the curse word I almost let slip.

"Interpreter, Muffin," I correct, tapping his nose playfully.

He giggles and squirms in my arms. "What's that for?"

"It's like a translator for computers, Ash. You'll get it when you're older." I set him down on the grass. "Now go to your room and get ready to meet Grandma."

"Okay, Mommy!" He practically sprints into the house, his little legs working faster than my weekend motivation.

I stretch my aching arms, grab the mower, and let out a deep sigh. Back to battling this goddamn grass.

What the hell am I even doing?

I barely get time with Asher anymore, buried under the weight of my job, shackled to a mind-numbing 10-to-6 routine that steals away the hours I should be spending with him. I can't always hire a nanny to pick him up from school, to keep him safe until I'm done pretending I have my shit together. I should be the one doing that. I want to be the one doing that.

I owe Wren and Freya more than just a thank you for stepping in when I can't.

The mower hums beneath me, but it's nothing more than a distant vibration now. My thoughts spiral, twisting into knots I can't untangle. I can't quit my job-I have Asher to take care of, a house to maintain, bills that won't stop coming, expenses that pile up like a goddamn landslide. My head spins, the weight of everything pressing down on my chest.

"Tired?"

The voice is familiar-too familiar. It drags me out of my storming thoughts, but I don't turn around. I don't need to. I already know who it is.

"What are you doing here?" I keep working with my lawnmower.

"Can't I come to see my son and my sexy-as-fuck wife?"

I practically can hear the smirk in his voice before I even see it, dripping with that insufferable arrogance that used to make my heart race-and now just makes my blood boil.

"Control your damn mouth. I'm not your wife anymore." I keep my back to him, unwilling to let him drag me into his orbit again.

And then-smack.

A firm slap lands on my ass, making me jolt forward before I whirl around, eyes blazing.

"What the hell, Zayne?" My voice trembles, not with fear, but with the effort it takes to keep my rage from spilling over. My fists curl at my sides, my temper a live wire, ready to explode.

"Your ass is growing bigger every time I visit you. Are you doing something to it? Turn around."

His eyes are shamelessly fixed on me, sharp and assessing, like I'm some exhibit put on display just for him.

What the hell is he doing?

My hands fly to my backside instinctively, trying to shield myself from his audacious gaze.

"Stop it," I grit out, my teeth clenching so hard my jaw aches.

But, of course, he ignores me.

"That thing is too big to cover with your hands," he muses, lips curling into a devilish grin. Then, as if to add insult to injury, he lifts his hands and flexes his fingers in the air, mimicking a grabbing motion. "Want some help?"

"Get. Out." My patience hanging by a thread.

Zayne simply shrugs, unbothered, insufferable as always. "You can't tell me to leave. But Asher can." He leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a taunting murmur. "And you're at a loss, Tigress, because my son adores his dad."

Smug. Arrogant. Bastard.

He hasn't changed. Not then, not now. He never will.

How could he? He's the untouchable CEO of Phoenix Prime Inc., a man who walks through the world like he owns it. And in some twisted way, he still thinks he owns me.

My glare deepens, but it only makes him laugh, deep and rich, like this is all just a game to him.

"Are you an idiot? Do not touch me, Zayne."

I'm already done with his bullshit. God, why is he like this?

"Fine, fine," he sighs, as if I'm the one making things difficult. "Where's my favorite firecracker ?"

His arms cross over his chest, his gaze lazily flicking to mine, but my glare stays locked on him.

"Ah, don't worry," he smirks. "You took first place the moment I laid my eyes on you. Ash is second." He shrugs.

I swear, I wish a hurricane would just sweep through and take him off my lawn. Infuriating bastard.

Before I can hurl another insult, Asher bursts out of the house, his tiny feet pounding against the porch.

"Daddy!!! I knew it was you!"

Zayne bends down and scoops him up effortlessly. His arms wrap around Asher tightly, holding him close like he's the most precious thing in the world. And he is.

"I missed you, buddy." His voice drops, softer now, almost tender.

"I missed you too, Daddy!" Asher beams. "When did you come back from the business trip?"

His little voice is laced with innocence, his wide brown eyes looking up at Zayne expectantly.

My chest tightens.

Yes, Asher doesn't know we're divorced. He's too young for things like that. So we both decided we'd tell him when he's ready. For now, Zayne comes to see him once every two or three months, and all Asher knows is that his dad is away on business.

It's not entirely a lie. Zayne is a busy man-an empire resting on his shoulders, a name that holds weight in the corporate world. But when he's here, he never lets Asher down from his arms, never stops making up for lost time. He takes him to places, buys him whatever he wants, showers him with the kind of love that makes me wonder if, despite everything, Zayne really does love Asher more than anything.

Typical spoiling dad energy.

"I saw you on TV last night, Daddy! And I showed you to my friends. They were like, 'awwww!'"

Ash's eyes practically sparkle with excitement.

"Did you, Ash?" Zayne laughs, hugging him tighter.

"Erica said you are sooo handsome," Ash continues, completely oblivious to the smug grin forming on Zayne's face. He keeps rambling about what his little friends from next door said when they were over last night.

"Aha! Looks like your mother has someone to compete with." Zayne smirks and throws a glance my way.

I roll my eyes, refusing to entertain his nonsense, and focus on mowing the grass.

He laughs, then turns his attention back to Asher. "So, where are we going today?" He taps his chin, pretending to think. "What about... a theme park?"

I finally speak up. "I'm taking Ash to see my mom." I don't bother looking at him.

"Well, sorry to break it to you," Zayne's infuriating voice reaches my ears, smug as ever, "but my son is coming with me today."

I stop and glance over my shoulder. His expression is unreadable, but I already know where this is going.

"And for the record..." He pauses, then smirks. "No, you already know-I hate your mom. And today is father-son time, not grandma-grandson time."

"He asked me to take him there," I say through clenched teeth. "And don't talk like that in front of him."

Zayne rolls his eyes before shifting his focus to Asher."Where do you wanna go, Ash? Theme park with Daddy or Grandma's house?"

"Theme park! Theme park!" Asher cheers, his tiny arms flailing in excitement and bouncing in Zayne's arms..

Zayne's triumphant grin nearly makes me throw the damn mower at him.

I sigh. "Do whatever you want."

Muttering under my breath, I turn back to work.

Zayne carries Ash inside while talking to him, his deep voice mixing with Asher's excited chatter.

This was our life two years ago. Laughter, warmth, a home filled with love.

Now? It's all broken pieces.

But Zayne-smug, arrogant bastard-still walks around like everything is the same. Like nothing has changed.

But it has.

And what I don't know-what keeps me up at night-is how I'm supposed to tell Asher that his parents were already separated before he was even old enough to remember.

I am still searching for the enemy I battle-my past, lurking in the shadows, or my future, daring me forward? My emotions, wild and untamed, or my thoughts, relentless and unyielding? The war rages within me, but the battlefield remains unknown.

Perfection. That's what my life was. When I first laid eyes on her, when I loved her with a devotion that consumed me, when I held her in my arms and believed nothing could break us. When I stood beside her, slipping a ring onto her finger, promising forever. When she carried our child, the very essence of our love, and I thought the universe had gifted me its most precious treasure. My existence was seamless, unshaken-a man who had everything, a life sculpted by ambition, love, and purpose.

Phoenix Prime Inc. stood as an empire beneath my feet. I was its ruler, the master of an empire built with ruthless precision. My father sat upon his throne as the Chairman, my elder brother as the Vice Chairman, and the rest-mere players in a game they barely understood. Investors, shareholders, partners. Names that didn't matter, faces that blurred together, voices that I ignored unless they spoke of progress. I didn't care for them. I never did. I only cared for the empire, for expansion, for dominance.

My brother, the perfectionist, orchestrated our overseas dealings, ensuring Phoenix Prime stretched its wings across every corner of the world.

And I wanted it all.

Industries bowed before us-medicine, technology, construction, media, fashion, shipping, logistics, education. Our name was imprinted on everything. A multi-sector corporation that moved the world like an unseen force, whispering in the ears of giants.

Yet for all the power, for all the wealth, for all the worlds I conquered-one thing eluded me.

My wife.

Or, as the world insists, my ex-wife. But what do words matter? What does ink on fragile paper dictate? Who decided that love could be severed with a signature? What a cruel joke.

Fuck the laws that dared to claim she was no longer mine.

And Asher-my son, my heart, my reason. My bundle of energy, of unstoppable, untamed fire. He reminded me so much of my father, the man who refused to be still, who crossed oceans and built empires even when his firstborn was capable of carrying his legacy.

My family cherished me. They always had. Just as I cherished the two souls I had lost-my wife and my son.

Evangeline Laurent. The woman who once carried my name. Evangeline Lancaster. The woman who, two years ago, tore it from her identity as though it held no weight. As though it didn't bind us together, through every whispered promise and every shattered vow.

My Little Tigress.

Fierce. Untamed. Defiant. Short Tempered. Possessive little creature.

Her anger only ever made me smile. She could roar, she could snarl, she could try to sever herself from me with all the force she could muster-

But she would always be mine.

God, she was beautiful. Breathtaking. A vision that stole the air from my lungs.

The goddess of temptation.

The very definition of elegance.

The epitome of beauty.

The queen of possessiveness.

The mother of short-tempers.

-one whose fire could burn, whose touch could ruin, whose love could consume.

I could have given her a hundred more titles, and she would have deserved every single one. Not just from me, but from our family, from the world itself. She carried them effortlessly, like a crown only she was worthy to wear. And above all, I loved it when she was jealous-when her possessiveness burned like wildfire, scorching anyone who dared to overstep, when that fierce possessiveness wrapped around me like chains of silk and fire.

Memories of her came to me like waves against the shore, relentless and unyielding, each one more vivid than the last. They found me in my weakest moments, refusing to fade, refusing to let me forget.

And then there was the courtroom. The day we signed away our marriage, the day the law declared us strangers. The memory was still fresh, carved into the walls of my mind like an unhealed wound.

I could still see her, seated across from me, poised and unshaken-until my secretary made the mistake of looking at me for a little too long.

That glare.

That lethal, unforgiving glare Eva shot at her-sharp enough to turn the courtroom into a war zone.

And me-I was the only man who ever laughed like a maniac right after signing his own divorce.

But if there was one thing about her that could bring even gods to their knees, it was her self-respect. A hell of a thing-unyielding, unshakable. I could have worshiped her for it.

My Eva.

She refused alimony without a second thought, her voice ringing with that quiet defiance I both loved and loathed. "I can work. I can take care of myself and my child." And she could-I never doubted that. She had always been strong, always capable. But something inside me twisted at the thought. I should have forced her to take something, anything, just to ease the weight on her shoulders. Just to make sure she never had to worry, never had to struggle.

Instead, I gave her full custody of Asher. Not because I didn't want to fight for him. Not because I wanted to let go. But because I wanted her to breathe, to not carry another burden on top of the wreckage we had become.

But I was still his father.

So I found myself in Manhattan more often than I should have, using my son as an excuse. A reason. A justification for why I still needed to see her, even when she wanted nothing to do with me.

Her family had pleaded with her to stay, to let them shelter her, but Eva, Stubborn as ever. She refused outright. Sold her jewels, every shimmering piece I had once draped around her, and bought a home-for Asher, for herself. And I could only stand from a distance, watching her build a life without me.

My family adored her. She wasn't just my wife-she was my father's favorite, the daughter he never had. Their bond remained unbroken, their conversations untouched by the wreckage of our marriage. They still spoke.

But not me.

My life had become a cruel joke.

"Zayne, I want to see my grandson. Now." My father's voice carried the weight of finality.

How? How could I bring him here when she barely let me take him across the street, let alone out of town? Los Angeles? She would have my head for even suggesting it.

"You can come with me," I muttered, already dressed, already set to leave. I didn't want to argue, not today. Jesus Christ.

"You can bring her here. With Asher."

I almost laughed. Did he have any idea what he was asking? Would he be the one to face her fury?

No. That was my cross to bear.

"I'll talk to her, Dad." The words were short, clipped, a dismissal more than a promise.

And then I left. No more explanations. No more arguments. Just the endless stretch of distance between where I stood-and the woman I still called mine.

But when I arrived, a surprise awaited me.

Eva-my Eva-was outside, working on the lawn, her hands gripping the mower, her body moving with effortless grace. And then there was her ass-perfect, sinful, demanding my full attention like the golden light of dawn breaking through the darkest night.

I could have stayed silent, let my eyes drink her in, let the moment stretch into infinity while I watched her work-or rather, watched that mesmerizing sway. But my mouth, reckless as ever, refused to obey.

What could I possibly do when that thing was practically begging for my attention? So I spanked her ass.

And then, as if the universe itself wanted to remind me of what truly mattered, a small blur of energy shot toward me. My son. My baby boy.

Asher.

Two long months had passed since I last held him, since I last felt his tiny arms wrap around me, since I last breathed in the scent of innocence and warmth that only a child could carry. And now, with his arms clinging to me, his laughter echoing in my ears, I was in heaven. My Asher-my piece of heaven.

Every time I came here, I stayed in Manhattan for at least a week, just so I could be close to him. And... to her. But mostly to Asher, because Eva was always busy with work. So, I picked Ash up from preschool, let him choose where he wanted to eat, what he wanted to do, what he wanted to buy.

And, of course, Eva had a few choice words for me every time he returned home with his arms full of toys and his little heart full of mischief. She scolded me in every colorful way she could muster, frustration spilling from her lips like a beautiful storm. But I didn't care.

Asher was my son. My pride. My joy.

And if he wanted the world, I would give him the sky. If he wanted the sky, I would give him the universe.

Because he deserved every single inch of it.

"Daddy, Daddy! Will you buy me a bike? Jake said he has the coolest bike ever and his dad bought that for him."

Asher's voice, bubbling with excitement, broke through the silence, his big brown eyes gleaming with more enthusiasm than usual-like tiny suns bursting with endless energy.

I settled onto the couch, pulling him into my arms, feeling the warmth of my little universe pressed against me. "Anything you want and will buy the best bike ever." I murmured, my lips brushing against his soft hair.

His entire face lit up, his eyes shimmering with uncontained joy. It was the kind of look that could break apart galaxies, the kind of happiness that was pure, untouched, and irreplaceable. I leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, before my gaze wandered outside.

Eva was still in the yard, not yet finished with the lawn.

I turned back to my son, brushing a hand over his hair. "You've been behaving, right? You're not giving Mommy extra work, hmm?"

He shook his head, grinning up at me. "I've been a good boy for Daddy."

I smiled, my fingers ruffling his already messy hair. "Mommy works so hard, Ash. You, be a man and behave, alright? Promise Daddy." I held out my pinky.

Without hesitation, his tiny finger curled around mine, locking us into an unbreakable bond. "I will be a good boy. And a man, Daddy." His giggles rang out, light and sweet, the kind of sound that made the world feel softer.

I had no doubt about that.

Asher might be full of energy, always moving, always curious, but he was perceptive. He read situations better than most children his age. He didn't throw tantrums or demand things the way some kids did when they didn't get their way.

Eva was firm, giving him only what was necessary, never more, never less. I, on the other hand, spoiled him endlessly. Yet, despite that, he never acted out when he was with her. He never cried over things he didn't get.

Too mature for a four-year-old.

"Daddy, what is an intepeter?" His small voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"A what?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Intepeter," he repeated, looking up at me with pure curiosity. "Mommy talked about that on the phone."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Interpreter, Ash."

"Intepeter," he tried again, stubborn in his innocence.

I laughed, my chest filling with something indescribable. God, this kid was adorable.

I talked and played with Ash for a few more minutes before she walked in.

My eyes locked onto her, drawn in like a tide surrendering to the pull of the moon. But she didn't even spare me a glance. Not a flicker of acknowledgment. Nothing. Ash took my phone from my pocket.

"You know... you could wear tank tops instead of hiding behind those full-sleeve T-shirts," I mused, stretching my arms over the back of the couch, my gaze shamelessly trailing after her.

Ash, oblivious to the charged silence, tapped away at my phone, his little fingers moving with unbothered ease.

She didn't hesitate. "First of all, who said you could walk in?"

"My son," I shrugged, the corners of my lips curving up.

"Yes, Mommy!" Asher chimed in enthusiastically, bouncing on my lap. "Daddy said he was tired. And Daddy told me to be a man. A man helps another man, right, Mommy?" Said with his flawless logic and innocence.

I raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. The innocence, the absolute conviction in his voice-he truly believed he was standing on solid ground.

Eva's steps faltered in the hallway. She turned, looking at Asher first, then shifting her glare onto me. I lifted my hands in mock surrender, a silent What did I do? expression playing on my face. She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line before she disappeared into the kitchen.

"Can I get a coffee?" I called out, my voice carrying an edge of feigned helplessness. "I haven't eaten yet,"

A pause. A flicker of hope.

Then, a flat and unforgiving voice floated out from the kitchen. "There's a restaurant two blocks away. Go there."

Asher giggled, his small body shaking against mine. He cupped his hands around his mouth like he was about to reveal the world's greatest secret. "Mommy is mad at you," he whispered.

I leaned down, mirroring his hushed tone. "Why?"

His little face scrunched up in exaggerated thought before he nodded sagely. "Because you didn't come home for a looooooong time." He stretched the word out like it held the weight of eternity.

I narrowed my eyes playfully. "Did your mother say that?"

He shook his head. "No. But I know Mommy." His voice softened, the playful edge slipping away. "She missed you." He paused, meeting my gaze. "Like I missed you."

My heart plummeted.

The smile I had worn so carelessly vanished in an instant. My mind short-circuited, words dissolving on my tongue, leaving behind nothing but the weight of his quiet confession.

I pulled him into a tight embrace, holding onto him as if I could rewind time, as if I could erase the nights he had missed me. "I'm sorry, Ash," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

His tiny fingers clung to my shirt, his breath warm against my neck. "I know you have work, Daddy," he murmured, his voice trembling with unspoken longing. "But I still miss you so much."

That was it. That was my undoing.

This little man was my weakness.

"Don't cry, Ash. Daddy's here, right?" I stroked his back, the gentle rhythm meant to soothe him as much as it was to steady myself. He nodded slightly, but I could still feel his small body pressed against mine, as if he was afraid I would slip away again.

I took a deep breath, forcing a smile back onto my face. "Okay, your grandpa said he wanted to see you. When are we going?"

His sorrow evaporated instantly. He pulled back, his eyes wide with excitement. "Grandpa?" His voice lifted, filled with newfound energy. "I want to see him too!"

I held his little hands as he stood up on my lap, his weight barely noticeable. My phone slipped from his grasp, landing on the floor with a dull thud, forgotten in seconds.

Nothing could hold his attention for more than five minutes. I chuckled under my breath.

"Daddy, Your suit is awesome!" He cupped his cheeks and looked at my suit up and down.

I arched a brow. "Let's get you one. Anything else, sir?"

"You're spoiling him."

Eva's voice drifted through the room as she walked out of the kitchen, her gaze landing on us with that familiar mix of exasperation and quiet amusement.

"No," I corrected smoothly, meeting her eyes. "I'm giving him what he wants." My voice dropped just a fraction. "Because he deserves it."

And then, I did what I always did. I let my gaze sweep over her, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she looked standing there-beautiful, defiant, mine.

With a smirk, I covered Ash's ears and murmured, "I can buy you some lingerie too. If you're up for it."

That did the magic.

A delicate blush crept up her neck, blooming like the petals of a forbidden flower.

God, she was stunning.

"Why's Mommy red?"

Ash tilted his head, scrutinizing her with curious eyes.

That was it.

I lost it. A burst of laughter escaped me, rich and unrestrained. I threw my head back against the couch, the sound rolling through the room like a melody I had forgotten how to play. It had been a long time since I laughed this hard-too long.

"It's called bl-"

Eva cut me off before I could finish. "Just cold, Muffin," she rushed out, her hands flying up to shield her neck like it would somehow erase the evidence.

Ash blinked, accepting her answer with a simple "Oh," before turning his fascination to my cufflink, rolling it between his tiny fingers. That was how he worked-always finding something new to latch onto, to keep his restless hands busy.

I leaned back, watching her. "Can I have a coffee? I'm really hungry."

She didn't respond. Just leveled me with a look sharp enough to slice through bone.

I grinned. "Of course, you could always shoo my hunger away in another way, too. I wouldn't mind."

Her lips parted, eyes narrowing. There it is.

"Asshole," she mouthed silently.

I chuckled, mouthing back, "Please?"

A roll of her eyes. A sharp turn on her heels. And just like that, she disappeared into the kitchen.

I exhaled, my gaze drifting down to the boy on my lap. He was watching me, eyes wide, hesitant, like he had been holding onto a thought too big for his little mind.

"Daddy, can I ask you something?" His voice was soft, uncertain. "You won't get mad, right?"

I frowned. When have I ever gotten mad at my son?

"Not in this lifetime, buddy. Go on."

He hesitated for just a second before whispering, "Can you change my mattress? It went flat." His voice was hopeful, his hands gripping mine like the request was heavier than it should be.

A simple thing. But to him, it wasn't.

"We can change your whole bed," I murmured, pressing a kiss to his hair.

A wide grin stretched across his little face, his arms flinging around my neck. "You're the best dad ever!"

Eva emerged from the kitchen, placing a cup of coffee on the table with a quiet clink. "He can use the same mattress," she stated, her tone edged with finality.

"I'm doing this for my son." My voice was calm, but firm. "It's your choice if you don't want anything, but you can't stop me from doing what I need to do for him. He's my son too, Eva. Don't act like this just because you have the cust-"

I caught myself just in time. The words nearly slipped past my lips.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temple. Frustration seeped through every fiber of my vein. I wouldn't do this in front of Ash. Not like this.

"Ash," I said, voice softer now, controlled. "Go to your room, buddy."

"Okayyy!" His little feet hit the ground, and he bolted toward the stairs, squealing, "NEW BED!!!" as he walked on the hall.

I watched him go, my jaw tightening.

This family should've been whole. Should've been perfect.

Instead, we were this.

Half-shattered. Half-holding on.

And I didn't know how much longer I could hold it without breaking anything.

I watched him disappear into his room, his small footsteps fading into the silence.

"You can't talk like that in front of my son," Eva snapped.

I lifted my gaze to her, amusement curling at the edges of my lips. "Your son? Just yours? Tell me, Eva, did he miraculously appear in your womb like the second coming of Christ?" My brow arched as I took a slow step forward. "No. But because I buried my cock inside you five years ago without protection, and that's how he came to be. So let's not rewrite our history -he's my son too."

I crossed my arms, watching her, waiting.

Her lips curled in defiance. "I could've had him without you. I could've had him with anyone else instead of you."

A slow, humorless chuckle rumbled in my chest.

"Yes, you could have birthed a child." I stood up from the couch. "But not him. Not my Asher. You would've had a brat, not this angel."

I closed the space between us in a single, deliberate step. "And don't ever talk like that in front of me. Ever. In this lifetime, Eva, there is only me. If you so much as mention another man in my place, I will tear him apart. Limb by limb. I don't care who he is. Understand?"

Our breaths tangled in the charged air, the heat of my presence making her swallow hard. Because she knew-I never made empty threats.

Lifting my hand, I brushed my thumb over her cheek, slow and deliberate, a caress laced with warning. "Understand?" I repeated.

She nodded, her defiance wavering for a fraction of a second.

"Good girl." I Murmured and stepped back, just enough to break the magnetic pull between us. "I'll be back after four. I'm taking Asher to the theme park."

She only stared, her silence louder than any words.

Adjusting my tie, I grabbed my phone from the floor and walked out, the air thick with everything left unsaid.

How dare she? How dare she talk about another man as if he could stand where I stood?

Asher was mine. My son.

And Eva.

She was mine too. Always had been. Always would be.

Nothing could change that. Not then. Not now. Not ever.