Chapter 306

Chapter 306
The word sliced clean through the moment.

We both turned at the same time.

Maggie stood at the doorway, frozen like she had walked into something she was not meant to see. Her eyes were wide, fixed on Isaiah like she was staring at a man pulled straight out of the grave. On her hip was a little girl, round-cheeked and bright-eyed, her small hand stretched out toward me.

“Mummy,” she said again, her voice soft and demanding in the way only children manage.

My heart lurched painfully, instinct taking over before thought could catch up.

“Hi, my baby,” I cooed, moving quickly toward her. I took the child from Maggie’s arms, settling her against my hip like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Behind me, I felt it.

Isaiah stiffened.

“Did you miss me?” I murmured, pressing my nose into Leah’s hair. “Because I …missed you, my sunshine,” I whispered, rocking her gently from side to side.

Leah giggled, the sound light and pure, completely unaware of the way the room had shifted. I lifted her slightly and bounced her, earning another delighted laugh, her tiny hands clutching at my dress. For a brief moment, everything else faded. The pain, the shock, the man standing behind me who had torn my life apart and stitched himself back into it without warning. All that mattered was the warm weight of my child in my arms and the way her laughter steadied something inside me.

Only then did I lift my eyes.

I met Isaiah’s gaze over Leah’s head.

He looked… undone.

His face had gone pale, all the sharp confidence stripped away, his eyes wide and locked on the little girl like she was something holy and terrifying all at once. He wasn’t breathing properly. I could see it in the way his chest barely moved, in the way his jaw trembled like he was afraid that if he spoke, the sound would break him.

I turned slightly and handed Leah back to Maggie, whose hands were still shaking as she took her.

“Maggie,” I said softly, keeping my voice steady even as my insides twisted, “please take Leah away for a second. I’ll come get her after I’m done.”

Maggie nodded mutely, her eyes flicking between Isaiah and me, questions screaming in them. She adjusted Leah on her hip, still clearly stunned.

I smiled at my daughter, forcing warmth into it. “Go with Aunt Maggie for a while, baby. I’ll be out soon.”

Leah only giggled again, completely content, patting my cheek before resting her head against Maggie’s shoulder. I pressed a kiss to her temple, breathing her in like I needed it to survive.

Then they were gone.

The door closed softly behind them, and the room felt too big. Too quiet.

I stood there with my back to Isaiah, exhaling slowly as if I had been holding my breath for a year. My hands slid down the front of my dress, smoothing imaginary wrinkles, grounding myself. I needed a second. Just one.

Then I walked toward my chair and sat, my movements slow, deliberate, like if I rushed, I might shatter.

“Who was that?” Isaiah asked behind me.

His voice was different now. Stripped. Bare. The edge gone.

I didn’t turn to look at him. I kept my eyes fixed ahead, anywhere but on his face.

“Who do you think?” I replied quietly.

There was a pause so long it felt like time had stopped breathing with us.

Then, softly—almost fearfully—he asked, “Is she mine?”

The weakness in his voice nearly destroyed me.

I turned then. I couldn’t help it.

He was staring at me like his entire world was balanced on my answer, like one word from my mouth could either save him or end him completely. The man who had faced death, who had ordered killings without blinking, who had vanished and let the world believe he was dead—he looked terrified now.

My chest ached.

“I have not been with any other person,” I said slowly, meeting his eyes and holding them. “If that’s what you’re asking, Isaiah.”

Something broke in him.

His knees buckled slightly as he reached for the edge of the desk to steady himself, his head dropping for a moment as a sharp, shaky breath tore from his chest. When he looked up again, his eyes were glassy, red-rimmed, overflowing with something too big to name.

“My God,” he whispered. “My God…”

He took a step toward me, then another, stopping himself like he was afraid to touch me, afraid I would disappear again.

“She’s… she’s beautiful,” he said hoarsely. “She looks like you.”

I swallowed hard. “She has your eyes.”

That did it.

He covered his mouth with his hand, turning away as a sound escaped him—half laugh, half sob. His shoulders shook, and for the first time since I had known him, Isaiah looked small. Human. Broken open by love he never knew he had lost.

And standing there, watching him unravel, I realized something terrifying and unavoidable.

No matter how much he had hurt me.
No matter how deep the scars ran.

He was still the man who owned my heart.