Damien’s POVI stood there in the small café and the world stopped spinning. The boy looked up at me with my own silver-gray eyes. Same shape, same color. His dark hair fell across his forehead just like mine did when I was a kid. He tilted his head, curious instead of scared. My chest felt tight, like someone punched me.“Lena,” I said again, my voice rough. “Is he mine?”She looked pale, like she might fall over. Her hands shook as she stepped in front of the boy. “Eli, go in the back with Iris, okay? Mommy needs to talk to this man.”“But Mom—” Eli started.“Please, baby,” she said softly.Iris, the woman behind the counter, gave me a hard look. “You heard her. Out. Or I call the cops.”I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Five years of searching, and here they were. My wife. My son. Right in front of me in this quiet little town.“I’m not leaving,” I said. “Not until we talk.”Lena’s eyes filled with fear. She looked different now. Older. Stronger. But still the same woman who left me that
Read more