Chapter 6

Isla’s POV

There’s no manual for this.

No book, no blog, no podcast on how to tell your child the truth when you’ve spent their entire life protecting them from it.

After I left Lucien’s penthouse, I walked for nearly an hour. Past the glittering towers of Midtown, past the tourists and food carts, down into the quieter parts of the city where the noise didn’t drown out my thoughts.

Telling Leo would change everything.

He was only four—but he was smart. Sharp in a way that unnerved most adults. And sensitive, like me. He noticed things. Absorbed tension. Asked questions when no one else dared.

He’d ask why I lied.

And I didn’t know how to answer that yet.

I picked him up from daycare just before closing. He came sprinting into my arms, dinosaur backpack bouncing on his back, a trail of glitter still stuck in his hair.

“Mommy!” he squealed, throwing his arms around my neck.

“Hey, baby. Did you have fun today?”

“Yeah! We painted dragons and Liam spilled juice on Miss Dana and it looked like pee and—”

I laughed, even as my chest tightened. I held him a little too long. Kissed his head a little too softly.

Because soon, I’d have to shatter his version of the world.

And once you break something like that, you can’t unbreak it.

We ordered his favorite for dinner—chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs—and curled up on the couch with his blanket.

He looked up at me with those grey eyes, Lucien’s eyes, and said, “Are you sad, Mommy?”

I froze. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

He tilted his head. “The forehead thing. When you smile but your forehead’s all wrinkly.”

I let out a breath. “I guess I’m just… thinking.”

“‘Bout work?”

“No.” I paused. “About something really important.”

He sat up straighter, suddenly very serious. “Am I in trouble?”

I smiled. “No, sweetheart. You’re perfect.”

He grinned. “I know.”

I took his hand in mine. “Can I tell you a story?”

“Is it a dragon story?”

“Sort of.”

He nodded eagerly.

“There was once a very strong little boy,” I began, “who was born with the heart of a lion and the spirit of a storm. And his mommy loved him more than anything in the whole world.”

He leaned his head against my arm.

“But,” I continued, “there was someone missing. A very important piece of the story. Someone who didn’t even know the little boy existed. Someone far away, who had a big, powerful life—but always felt like something was missing.”

His eyes widened. “Like a lost knight?”

“Exactly,” I whispered. “But this knight wasn’t just anyone. He was brave, and smart, and—sometimes—a little too stubborn for his own good.”

“Like me!”

I laughed. “Yes, just like you.”

He looked up at me, curious now. “Did the knight find the boy?”

“Almost,” I said softly. “The boy’s mommy… she was scared. Because she didn’t know if the knight would understand. If he’d love the boy the way he deserved. So she kept the boy safe. Just the two of them. For a long time.”

Leo’s fingers tightened around mine.

“But now,” I whispered, “the knight is here. And he knows. And he wants to meet the boy.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

Then: “Is the knight… my daddy?”

My breath caught.

I nodded.

Leo blinked. “But I don’t have a daddy.”

I swallowed hard. “You do, baby. You always have. I just didn’t tell you before because I was trying to protect you.”

“From him?”

“No,” I said quickly. “From the world. From what it might mean. From getting hurt.”

He was quiet again, chewing on his lower lip the way he did when he was nervous.

“Is he nice?”

“Yes.”

“Is he big?”

“Yes.”

“Like, really big?”

I laughed. “Like a giant.”

He grinned. “Cool.”

Then, softly: “Does he wanna see me?”

Tears stung my eyes. “He really, really does.”

He looked down at his dinosaur pajama pants. “Okay.”

I blinked. “Okay?”

Leo nodded. “I wanna meet him.”

I blinked again, completely unprepared for how easily he accepted it. How open his little heart still was.

“I love you so much,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said, climbing into my lap. “You’re my mommy. And you never lie.”

The words felt like a knife.

I held him tighter.

After he went to sleep, I stepped into the kitchen and called Lucien.

He picked up immediately.

“Well?” he asked, voice rough with tension.

“He wants to meet you.”

A beat. Two. Then—

“Tell me when.”

“Tomorrow. After school. I’ll bring him to the park on 83rd and Lenox. Around five.”

“I’ll be there.”

His voice cracked slightly, and something in me softened against my will.

“Lucien…” I hesitated. “Please don’t disappoint him.”

There was a long pause.

“I won’t,” he said. “Not ever again.”