I was getting in too deep. With Millie, that was my job; that was inevitable. But Nathaniel Sterling was something else entirely. Something I hadn't planned for and couldn't afford.
In a house where Victoria weaponized every weakness, I'd just shown him all of mine.
And someone might have been watching when I did.
7.Nathaniel
My daughter invited me to play for the first time in three years, and I almost missed it because I was checking emails.
Saturday afternoon, I was in my study pretending to review quarterly reports when the sound drifted up through the floor… laughter. Not polite laughter, not careful laughter. The wild, shrieking, uninhibited laughter of a child who had forgotten to be afraid.
Millie's laughter.
I was moving before I made the conscious decision, drawn down the hallway like a man following a signal fire. The sound led me to the media room, and what I found there stopped me cold in the doorway.
Claire and Millie were tangled on the oversized rug in what appeared to be a tickle war. Millie was flushed and squirming, her dark braids coming undone, shrieking protests that were mostly giggles.
And Claire…
Claire was laughing too, a warm, unguarded sound I didn’t know she was capable of. She looked younger without the wariness she usually wore like armor. Lighter. Beautiful in a waythat had nothing to do with her features and everything to do with the joy radiating from her.
I'd trade my entire portfolio to relive the next thirty seconds.
"No fair!" Millie gasped between giggles. "You have longer arms!"
"That's called a tactical advantage," Claire said, grinning. "You should have considered that before challenging me."
"Daddy always lets me win!"
"Well, I'm not—" Claire looked up, finally noticing me in the doorway. Her laughter softened into something more self-conscious, a flush creeping up her cheeks. "Mr. Sterling. I didn't hear you come in."
"Don't stop on my account." My voice came out rougher than intended. "It sounded like you were winning."
"Iwaswinning," Millie announced, sitting up with great dignity despite her disheveled hair. "Miss Claire cheats."
"I do not cheat. I plan."
"Same thing!"
I should have retreated then. Gone back to my reports, my calls, the careful distance I'd maintained since Michaela died. But Millie's eyes found mine, bright and open in a way they hadn't been in years, and she said the words I hadn't realized I'd been waiting three years to hear.
"Daddy, come play! You can be on my team!"
I was rendered momentarily breathless.
It was a casual invitation, an offhand thought from a seven-year-old. But to me, it was a bridge rebuilt over a canyon I'd thought permanent. Millie hadn't invited me into her world since her mother died. She'd tolerated my presence, accepted my gifts, endured my attempts at connection. She'd neversoughtme out for something as simple as play.
Claire was watching me, her expression soft. She gave a small nod. Maybe permission or encouragement, I wasn't sure which.
"I should warn you," I said, shrugging off my jacket and draping it over a chair. "I'm extremely competitive."
"Daddy does not know how to lose," Millie informed Claire seriously.
"Then we'll have to teach him." Claire's eyes met mine, a spark of challenge in them. "Won't we?"
What followed was fifteen minutes I'd remember for the rest of my life.
We devolved into a three-way tickle battle, rules unclear, alliances shifting. Millie declared me her "war elephant" and climbed onto my back while Claire defended the couch cushion "fortress" with dramatic sound effects. I was terrible at it, too stiff, too careful, but Millie's delighted squeals made strategy irrelevant.
