Are you angry at my mom?

Mia uttered the words careful enough not to upset Julian. “Are you guys fighting?”

Elara was on her knees before Mia in a heartbeat, her hands trembling as she smoothed the little girl’s hair. "No, baby, we’re not fighting. We were just... discussing things. Very loudly."

Leo didn't buy it. He marched past his mother and stopped inches from Julian’s polished shoes. "Are you angry at my mom?"

Julian looked down at the boy. He crouched, bringing himself to Leo’s level. "No, Leo. I’m not angry at her. I could never be."

He saw Mia’s lip tremble, a single tear threatening to fall. Julian didn't hesitate; he moved to her, his hand gentle as he brushed her cheek. "I don’t ever want to see those eyes cry, Mia. We were just having a debate. Do you know what that is?"

Mia shook her head, clutching her rabbit.

"It’s when two people care about something very much and talk about it until they find an answer," Julian said, his voice a low, soothing hum. "And I think we’ve talked enough. How about ice cream?"

The shift was instantaneous. Mia’s eyes brightened. "Ice cream? Now?"

"Julian, no," Elara interjected, standing up. She shot him a look that promised murder. "It’s nearly dinner time. Right, guys? We should stay in.” She turned to Julian. “They haven’t even finished…"

"But Mommy, we want ice cream!" Mia chirped, jumping slightly. Even Leo’s stoic expression softened.

Julian’s gaze flickered to Elara, a smug, dark glint in his eyes. He had them. "It seems I’ve been outvoted, Elara."

"Look at our clothes, Mr. Julian!" Leo said, spinning around to show off the midnight-blue tuxedo. Mia followed suit, flaring out the iridescent silk of her dress. "Mrs. Gable helped us. Do we look like the party?"

Julian’s eyes traveled over them, a genuine pride tightening his chest. "You look like Vances. You look perfect."

"Do you like them, Mommy?" Mia asked, turning to Elara.

"I love them," Elara whispered, her heart aching at how well they fit into this world.

"Is Mommy going to the party too?" Mia asked. "Does she have a dress?"

Elara opened her mouth to speak, but Julian’s voice cut through the air like a blade. "She’s going to be the most beautiful woman there. She has a red dress that’s going to make the stars jealous."

Mia let out a squeal of delight and threw her arms around Julian’s knees. He scooped her up effortlessly, giving her a high-five that made her giggle. "Thank you for the dress, Mr. Julian! I love it!"

"You're welcome, princess. Now, go get changed back into your play clothes so we can go. Leo, help your sister."

As the kids scrambled toward their rooms, Leo stopped and looked back. "Is Mom coming for ice cream too?"

Julian turned his gaze toward Elara. A cold, silent glare that dared her to disappoint the boy.

"Yes," Elara forced out through gritted teeth. "Mommy is coming."

The moment the children were out of earshot, the air turned toxic. Elara opened her mouth to unleash a torrent of rage, but Julian didn't give her the chance. He grabbed her upper arm and hauled her into the small study nearby.

He kicked the door shut and turned the lock with a definitive click.

"Let go of me!" she hissed, wrenching her arm away.

"Spit it out, Elara" he commanded, leaning against the door to block her exit. "We wouldn't want the kids walking in on the 'debate' again."

"Who the hell told you that you could take my children anywhere? Ice cream? Clothes? What is this 'Dad of the Year' act, Julian? It’s medicine after death. You were gone for five years!"

"I am their father," Julian stepped into her space, his voice a dangerous rumble. "Like you so clearly reminded me. And you would be doing us both a favor if you started using the term 'our.' It takes two people to birth children."

"It took one person to raise them!" she shouted, her voice breaking.

"For five years," Julian shot back, his eyes flashing with a sudden pain. "Five years that I am deeply, bitterly sorry about. But I am here now. And I am going to be here to raise them for the rest of their lives. With you."

"Don't!" Elara’s eyes flooded with tears she refused to let fall. "Don't you ever say you're sorry. You think a word takes back the nights I spent wondering if I’d have enough for rent? You think an ice cream cone fixes five years of being a ghost?"

Julian tried to step closer, his hand reaching for her waist, but she recoiled.

"Stop," she breathed, her voice a jagged edge. "Do us both a favor and stay out of my personal space. You bought my presence, Julian. You didn't buy me."

She lunged for the lock, twisted it, and slammed the door behind her so hard the glass rattled. She ran, her vision blurred, desperate to find a corner of this palace that didn't smell like him.

She turned the corner too fast and slammed into a wall of solid muscle.

"Whoa, easy," a rough voice said.