CHAPTER 77

CHAPTER 77
The woman’s words hung in the cool night air. ‘I’m your mother, Lila’

I stared at her, the silk of my wedding dress suddenly feeling too thin against the chill seeping through the open doorway. Two months of fragile normalcy, and this stranger thought she could shatter it on the best night we’d had in years.

“You’ve got some nerve,” I said, voice flat and cold. “Showing up at midnight on my vow renewal, spinning whatever story you think will open doors.”

Lila’s green eyes that mirrored mine too closely widened. “Emerald, please. I’m not here for money or favors. Your husband’s wealth means nothing to me. I came because Sigurd is in danger.”I laughed, sharp and humorless. 

“How convenient, along-lost mother appears the moment I marry a millionaire. Save the performance, my real mother died when I was five. I helped bury her. I remember the way the coffin smelled of cheap wood. So whatever game this is, you picked the wrong night and the wrong family.”

Her hand reached out, trembling. “That woman you buried wasn’t me. I had to disappear. But your son carries something even rarer. I can help protect him. Please, just let me explain—”

“Enough.” I stepped forward, forcing her back onto the porch. Heat prickled along my arms, but I kept it leashed. 

“You don’t get to walk in back in my life and claim my child after abandoning me. Go back to wherever you crawled from. We’re done here.” I slammed the door in her face. 

The heavy thud echoed through the quiet house. For a second I just stood there, palm pressed against the wood, heart hammering. Dan appeared behind me, his hand settling warm on my shoulder.

“Em?”

“She’s nobody,” I whispered. “Just someone trying her luck.” He didn’t push and try to get answers.

Instead he pulled me against his chest, strong arms wrapping around me like they always did when the world tried to press in. 

I breathed him in clean soap, faint pine from the forest edge, and that steady calm that somehow tamed the fire in my blood.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s check on our boy.” We climbed the stairs together. 

The nursery door stood ajar, soft golden light spilling into the hallway. Victoria had already slipped away, giving us privacy. 

Sigurd lay in his crib, eyelids heavy but not quite closed. Dark curls framed his round face, still damp from his bath. Those striking blue eyes blinked slowly at us, heavy with sleep. 

One tiny fist rested near his cheek, the other clutching the edge of his blanket. My chest ached with a love so fierce it almost hurt.

“Hey, little love,” I whispered, leaning over the railing. I brushed a curl from his forehead. His skin felt warm, impossibly soft. A sleepy smile tugged at his mouth before his eyes drifted shut completely.

Dan’s arm slid around my waist. “He looks just like you when he smiles.”

“Liar,” I teased softly. “He’s all you, stubborn chin and everything.”

We lingered there, watching our son breathe, until the tension from the doorway finally loosened its grip. 

Dan took my hand and led me to our bedroom. The lights stayed low. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, painting silver across the sheets.

He kissed me like we had all the time in the world. His fingers found the zipper of my silk dress and eased it down with reverence.

I tugged his shirt free, palms exploring the familiar planes of his chest, the subtle ridges where new strength still surprised him. 

We moved together in the quiet, rediscovering each other as if this were truly our first night as husband and wife.

Later, tangled in warm sheets with his heartbeat steady under my ear, I traced lazy circles on his skin. “Today felt real,” I said.

Dan pressed a kiss to my temple. “Every day from now on. I promise.”

Sleep came easily after that, wrapped in his arms.

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Morning light streamed into the kitchen. I stood at the counter in one of Dan’s old shirts and shorts, flipping pancakes while the coffee maker gurgled. 

Dan sat at the breakfast table with Sigurd on his lap, making silly faces that earned delighted giggles. Victoria had taken an early walk, leaving the three of us in peaceful domestic quiet.

“More syrup?” I asked, sliding a plate in front of Dan.

“Always.” He grinned up at me, that same look from yesterday still lingering in his eyes.

I leaned down to kiss Sigurd’s curls. He reached for me with both hands, babbling happily. As I straightened, something caught the light on his tiny left index finger.

A small flame.

No bigger than a match head, flickering soft and golden at the tip of his finger. It danced there innocently, not burning his skin, just glowing like a living spark.

Sigurd stared at it, fascinated, then looked up at me with wide blue eyes as if asking what magic he’d created.

My breath caught.

“Dan…”

He followed my gaze, the color drained from his face.

Sigurd cooed again. The little flame pulsed brighter for a moment, then faded as he waved his hand, leaving only a faint warmth in the air.

Our peace had lasted exactly one night after the vows. And now our two months old son was already showing powers neither of us fully understood.

Dan’s hand found mine across the table, gripping tight. Somewhere at the back of my mind Lila’s warning echoed in my mind.