Daxton Stone did not announce his arrival.He never did.The car stopped just beyond the curve of the drive, far enough that the house remained unaware of his presence, close enough that he could see the life unfolding within its walls.Through the tall windows, he saw movement.Laughter.A child darting across the living room, hair bouncing, arms flung wide in careless joy.Another—calmer, more deliberate—following with measured steps, carrying something carefully in both hands.And at the center of it all—May.She was seated on the floor, legs folded beneath her, listening intently as Aria spoke animatedly, hands moving faster than her words. Aiden stood beside her, holding a small model, explaining something with the seriousness of a seasoned architect.Damien hovered nearby, not directing, not correcting—just present.Daxton’s fingers tightened lightly around the head of his cane.This was not chaos.This was not disorder.This was structure disguised as warmth.Inside, May laugh
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