Chapter 287: The Daddy Interview

Chapter 287: The Daddy Interview
Theo rolled his eyes slightly. "Harper, James is a finance guy, not a superhero."

He paused, his eyes lighting up as he looked at James. "But you have a super brain, right James?"

James laughed, reaching over to ruffle Theo's hair. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy. Sometimes smarts are more useful than muscles."

"I saw Mom and James holding hands!" Harper announced suddenly, looking like she'd discovered a state secret. "Does this mean James is going to be our new daddy?"

My cheeks flushed. "Harper, don't rush things. He's my boyfriend now."

"Why can't he be our daddy?" Harper tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. "James makes cookies for us, buys me princess dresses, and gets Theo super cool robots. I vote for James to be our daddy!"

"I vote for James too!" Theo raised his hand, his face breaking into an unusually bright smile. "He promised to teach me chess, and he never minds that I walk slow."

James glanced at me, his eyes soft with emotion, then turned back to the kids. "Hey, guys, that's a pretty big decision. If I pass your 'interview' to become your dad, I promise I'll be the most dedicated father in the world."

"Does that mean Mom will move into your big house?" Harper's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I want to live in a house with a swimming pool!"

"Harper!" I couldn't help but laugh.

"I have one more really important question," Theo said suddenly, his expression turning serious. Everyone in the car tensed, watching him expectantly. "If you become our dad, will Mrs. Jenkins still make those super yummy cookies?"

The car erupted with laughter, the tension from earlier completely dissipating.

James slid into the driver's seat beside me while Marcus took another vehicle with the rest of the security team. As we pulled away from the Thornton estate, the kids chattered excitedly in the backseat, the drama of the day catching up with them in a burst of adrenaline. Within minutes, though, the emotional roller coaster took its toll, and they both fell asleep, their small heads lolling to the sides of their car seats.

"What did your grandfather say to you?" I asked once the kids were sleeping soundly.

"Nothing important," James replied, his tone deliberately casual.

"I know he must have pressured you."

"No, don't overthink it." He reached over, his hand gently caressing my cheek. "All you need to remember is that no matter what happens, I'll always stand by your side. That's enough."

My eyes burned with unexpected tears. Six years ago, James had chosen his family over me. Today, he'd chosen me over everything else. The magnitude of that shift overwhelmed me.

I leaned over, wrapping my arms around his waist as best I could with the console between us.

"Thank you," I whispered against his shoulder.

"Isn't 'thank you' a bit formal?" James teased, pointing to his left cheek. "I prefer actions over words."

I moved to kiss his cheek, but at the last second, he turned his head, capturing my lips with his. The kiss was tender yet passionate, conveying everything words couldn't express—regret for the past, gratitude for the present, and hope for the future.



The investigation proceeded faster than anyone expected. Initially, both Duke and Victoria remained stubbornly silent, each refusing to implicate the other. But the detectives were skilled at their jobs, deliberately playing them against each other.

Victoria broke first. After Morgan's confession had already destabilized her mentally, the strain of hiding in that cellar for months had pushed her closer to the edge. When the police told her—falsely—that Duke had blamed everything on her, she crumbled.

She revealed everything. How after Morgan's arrest, she'd threatened Duke with exposing their affair to ensure he'd protect her. How Duke, despite hating her for Elizabeth's death, had been trapped by their mutually assured destruction—they knew too many of each other's secrets.

In the cellar, they'd made a pact to protect each other. But Victoria had never truly trusted Duke. Multiple times, she'd woken to find him standing over her bed, his expression unreadable in the darkness. She'd always suspected he might try to silence her permanently. During the ride to the police station, Duke had whispered promises that if she kept quiet, he'd ensure they both got out and would take care of William once he was released from prison.

The police used every psychological trick in their arsenal. Each was told the other had confessed. Evidence was fabricated. Eventually, Victoria couldn't take it anymore. She confirmed what I'd suspected for years—the red high heels I'd glimpsed before losing consciousness at Shadowbrook had indeed been hers. She admitted that when word came that I might be granted bail, she'd panicked, fearing I'd remember more details about that night. Duke, seeking revenge for his mother's death, had eagerly joined her plan to trap me in Shadowbrook and set it ablaze.

The confession added another charge to their growing list of crimes. Finally, after six long years, the truth was out.

Knowing the full truth brought me peace I hadn't experienced in years. For the first time since the fire, I slept through the night without nightmares, without waking in cold sweats with the phantom smell of smoke in my nostrils.

But as my personal life settled, James's professional life descended into chaos. The scandal of Duke and Victoria's crimes sent Thornton Group's stock plummeting. Projects were put on hold, partnerships reconsidered, and investors grew skittish. James became practically airborne, flying from one crisis to another.

An Australian project kept him away for ten days straight. Then Duke's creative accounting was discovered in the European division, requiring James's immediate attention in Milan. He'd barely returned to New York when problems surfaced with their South American operations.

Through it all, he kept in constant contact. Simple texts that spoke volumes:

Boarding for Milan.

Landed safely.

Miss you.

Heading to Sydney now.

Miss you.

Despite the distance, our connection only grew stronger. Late one night, fresh from the shower and wrapped in a silk camisole, my phone lit up with a video call from James.

His face appeared on screen, hair damp from his own shower, a hotel towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets still clung to his chest and shoulders, catching the light.

"How's Sydney?" I asked, settling against my pillows.

"Hot. Exhausting." His eyes traced my form through the screen. "How's New York?"

"Quiet without you. The kids keep asking when you'll be back."

"Just the kids?" His voice dropped lower, a dangerous edge creeping in.

"Maybe I've missed you a little too," I admitted, shifting to give him a better view of my silk camisole.

His eyes darkened noticeably. "Right now, all I can think about is pinning you to that bed and fucking you until you can't remember your own name," he growled. "Seeing you in that silk is making me painfully hard."

I smiled seductively, adjusting the camera angle to show more of my body. "Want to see more?"