Chapter 5

Ava’s POV

I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.

I tossed and turned. I stared at the ceiling like it had the answers I was looking for.

Leo slept beside me, one hand held tightly to the hem of my shirt, his soft breathing the only thing that filled the space. But my mind was spinning.

Damon Ashford.

That name has always existed like a shadow in my life—spoken only in memory, whispered in guilt between Eva and I. He was a chapter Eva never wanted to reopen. And now, he walks around my life like he owns the room.

Which, technically, he almost does. The man reeks of wealth and power. But under all that arrogance, I’ve seen something else too—something that makes me hesitate.

Grief.

Regret.

And something terrifyingly close to sincerity.

I don’t trust him.

I will not.

Because now that he knows about Leo, it isn’t just his grief I have to worry about. It is his ability to take everything I’ve spent the last two years building.

And he won’t ask twice.

—

Right now, I am behind the counter at the diner, pretending to care about the jam shortage and the broken syrup dispenser when Maya storms in like a woman on fire.

“You good?” she asks, tossing her bag on a stool.

“Can you define good?”

Her eyebrows rise. “You know, if you keep dodging that question, I’m going to start using my badge to force confessions.”

Of course she knows; do you expect me not to tell my best friend? Impossible.

I smile weakly, wiping down a counter that doesn't need wiping.

“Did he try to contact you?” she asks, voice lower now.

“No.” My hand pauses on the counter. “Not yet.”

“But he will.”

I nod.

And like clockwork, the door opens, and in walks trouble in a tailored coat.

Damon.

He walks in like he hasn’t shattered my peace the day before. Like this place isn’t too humble for him. His eyes scan the diner until they lock on me—and then, like some twisted spell, he smiles.

What the hell is he smiling for? Do I look like a joke or something?

I scoff.

I stiffen as he approaches the counter. “This place has charm,” he says casually, like we are discussing art and not my son.

“It’s funny how you frequently visit our humble diner, I thought you guys only dined above sea level,” I say, unimpressed.

“I do, usually. But I’ve been rethinking some things.”

“Really? Let me guess—you’re here for the pancakes, not the custody battle.”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “I’m not here to fight you, Ava.”

I blink.

Once.

Twice.

That was unexpected.

“Then why are you here?”

He slides his hands into his coat pockets. “To start over.”

I stare at him. “Start over what? You and Eva’s relationship is over; permanently. Leo has a life. A routine. A mother figure. You showing up here doesn’t get to rewrite that.”

“I’m not trying to rewrite anything,” he says, his voice softer now.

Indeed

“But I’d like to be part of his life moving forward. That’s not too much to ask.”

Isn’t it?

I don’t answer right away. Maya watches us from the coffee machine, clearly alert. My hands are shaking, and I need to get control of myself before I say something I couldn’t take back.

“He doesn’t know you,” I say, finally. “He doesn’t need to know you.”

“You’re wrong,” Damon says simply. “He needs both his parents.”

“Eva is gone.”

“But I’m not.”

His words are firm—but not cold. Like he genuinely believes he has a place in this story. Like he can’t see how showing up now—after all this time—is more damaging than helpful.

I sigh. “What exactly do you want?”

“I want to be involved in his life. No lawyers. No courts. Just time. I only want to have my own moments with my Son.”

Wait; what happened to the rich threatening you to get what they want? This is surprising.

“And what makes you think I’ll allow that?” my hand moves to my waist.

He studies me, then says, “Because deep down, you know this isn’t sustainable. You’ve done an incredible job, Ava. But one day Leo will ask questions. And he deserves honest answers.”

He is right. Damn it.

I hate the fact that he is right.

“I’m not handing him over to you,” I say flatly.

“I’m not asking for that. Not yet.” His eyes flicker—like he has more to say, but he is choosing his words carefully. Too carefully. Like he doesn't want to slip up.

“Not yet!” I chuckle. “And what exactly are you asking for?”

“Let me spend time with him. Supervised, if it makes you feel better. Just a few hours a week? A walk in the park? Storytime? Anything.”

I fold my arms. “You think you can just schedule your way into his life?”

“I’m willing to earn it,” he says.

And for a moment, I stand perplexed.

His new stand terrifies me more than I will ever admit.

But that only makes this fight between us more interesting.

---

Later this afternoon, I am outside the daycare center with Leo, watching him chase bubbles blown by one of the teachers. His laughter echoes across the playground, bright and unbothered. He is happy.

And that happiness has been my mission every single day since Eva passed.

The idea of someone like Damon—cold, calculated and unreadable—walking into Leo’s world feels like setting a lion loose in a garden.

And yet part of me can’t shake the image of Leo sitting on Damon’s lap, listening to a bedtime story. Not because I trust him—but because Leo deserves to know where he came from.

That doesn’t mean I have forgiven him.

It just means I love my nephew more than my fear.

“Ava!!” Gabby calls.

“What's up?” Putting on a smile, I turn.

“Nothing much. Leo had a visitor.”

I frown.

“One I don't know?”

“A man, about 6 '7 , handsome and looks like Leo. Just thought you should know.”

“Thanks.”

---

On getting home, a package is waiting at the door. I frown, checking the label.

No sender.

Just one word. A name.

Leo.

A book is inside the package. The Little Prince. A note, tucked between the pages in neat, expensive handwriting.

→ “For the boy who deserves to read about stars.

Let me help him find them. —D.”←

I stand there in the hallway, holding the book like it might burn me.

This isn’t a man who plans to disappear quietly.

He is already finding ways in.

And worst of all?

Part of me isn’t sure if I want to stop him.

But I most definitely will.