Four

Five Years Later

The state had changed.

It was no longer the place Nita once knew—it was more advanced, more beautiful, almost unrecognizable. The glittering glass walls of the airport reflected the light in ways that reminded her of opportunities she thought she had left behind.

Her fingers tightened around the small hand clutched in hers—the hand of the little boy who was both her anchor and the haunting reminder of a past she could never erase. Standing in the middle of the busy airport, surrounded by strangers rushing to their destinations, her heart still betrayed her. Against her will, it wandered back to him.

Nick.

Her chest tightened at the thought of his name. She shook her head quickly, snapping herself back to reality. No. She refused to go there. That chapter was closed, sealed with pain.

She hadn’t wanted to come back here. She had sworn never to return. But Mia—her ever-persistent friend—had worn her down, insisting it was the best move for her career, insisting that Nita couldn’t keep hiding forever.

A gentle tug on her shirt snapped her out of her storming thoughts. She looked down at the boy with wide curious eyes—the boy who had brought immeasurable light into her darkest years.

“Mummy,” Nate asked in his soft voice, tilting his head, “are we going to see my daddy?”

Her breath caught, just like it always did whenever he asked that question.

Ever since he turned five, it had become his favorite topic. Daddy.

Nita crouched down so they were face-to-face and forced a smile onto her lips. “Nate, darling, we’re here for mummy’s work.”

The little boy’s lips curved into a small frown. “But… what about daddy? Aunty Mia said daddy is in this state. We’re in the state now, right?”

Nita’s smile faltered. Of course it was Mia. That woman had been feeding Nate with fragile hope for years—hope Nita herself had worked so hard to bury.

“Nate,” she whispered, her voice firm though her heart trembled, “you don’t have a daddy.”

“Yes, I do!” he protested with all the stubbornness of a child. “Everyone has a daddy. I have one too.”

Her heart squeezed. He looked so much like him when he frowned, when he argued, when his little hands balled into fists at his sides. The resemblance was cruel.

But she didn’t have the strength for this. Not today. She was exhausted from the long journey, and there was no winning a battle of words with Nate. He had inherited more than just Nick’s eyes.

“Darling,” she sighed, brushing his hair back gently, “let’s go to the hotel. Mummy is really tired, and I have a meeting soon.”

He pouted but allowed her to straighten and guide him toward the exit.

Five years ago, when she had fled this state with nothing but a broken heart and a life growing inside her, she had sworn never to return. She hadn’t even known if she could make it on her own.

But she had.

For five years, she had worked tirelessly, pouring her soul into programming. Under the anonymous alias Cyborg, she had risen to global recognition. Clients who never knew her face begged for her expertise. She had built her career from scratch, brick by painful brick, until her name alone—though hidden behind a screen—demanded respect.

And it was anonymity that kept her safe. No one knew who Cyborg really was. No one knew her face. That was the only reason she could walk freely now through this airport, her son beside her, without fear of recognition.

She adjusted her sunglasses, pulling Nate a little closer. The last thing she wanted was attention—especially the kind that would put her son’s face in the spotlight.

---

Nick Grimm sat at his desk, frowning at the folder spread open before him. Another theft.

It wasn’t the first. Critical information about his company’s new products was somehow leaking—even though the designs had not yet launched. The projects were meant to be highly secure, developed by his own hand-picked team of experts. And yet someone was finding a way around his safeguards.

“Set up a meeting with the programmers,” he said coldly, his voice carrying authority as sharp as steel.

“Yes, sir,” his personal assistant, Jeff, replied quickly, already making notes.

But before he could leave, Jeff’s phone vibrated on the desk. He glanced at the message, his brows shooting up in surprise. “Sir,” he said cautiously, “there’s… something else. Your wife was just spotted at the airport.”

The pen in Nick’s hand froze. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, his eyes narrowing. “What did you say?”

“Positive, sir. The report says Mrs. Grimm was seen at the airport… with a young boy.”

For a moment, Nick’s office was silent, the words echoing in his head. Then, slowly, dangerously, a smile spread across his lips. It was the first time in five long, bitter years that he had allowed himself that expression.

“How old?” Nick asked, his voice low. Too low.

Jeff hesitated. “I—I can’t say exactly. Perhaps four or five.”

Nick pushed back his chair and stood, a quiet storm rising inside him. His heart pounded against his ribs like a drum. Five. Five years.

It all fit.

Jeff’s eyes widened as realization struck. “Do you… think she kept the pregnancy?”

Nick didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. His silence said it all. Jeff knew better than to press.

“Find her,” Nick ordered, his tone like iron. “Have someone follow her. Do not lose her—not like last time. If what you’re saying is true, that’s my wife and my son.”

“Yes, sir,” Jeff said quickly, already on the move.

As the door shut behind him, Nick grabbed his phone and dialed another number. This time, his voice softened ever so slightly. “Mrs. Patel,” he spoke to the head of staff at his mansion, “clean the entire house. My wife and son are coming home.”

There was a pause, then a joyous gasp on the other end. “Yes, sir!”

Nick ended the call, his chest heaving.

Five years.

Five years ago, he had locked himself inside the master bedroom for seven days, waiting for death. Waiting for the pain to consume him. But even death had rejected him.

So he had turned to the only thing he could control—work. He had drowned himself in business, closing deal after deal, multiplying the Grimm fortune beyond what anyone thought possible. He had been called ruthless, obsessive, a workaholic. He didn’t care. The constant motion was the only thing that kept him from shattering.

But now… she was back.

And she hadn’t come alone.

His chest ached with something raw, something he hadn’t felt in years.

Determination.

This time, he would not let her go. Not Nita. Not his son. He would do whatever it took—burn every bridge, fight every enemy, crush every obstacle.

The family he thought lost forever was within reach.

And Nick Grimm had never been a man who lost twice.