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He smiles a little. “What I mean is, if it says…that…It doesn’t change anything. You don’toweme anything. You get that, right?”
I shrug. “Yeah. But…I mean…if Iwantedit to change something…”
I lift my gaze to Kir. His lips twist.
“Why don’t we just open it,” he says quietly.
“Yeah,” I swallow nervously. “I think that’s best.”
He picks the envelope up from his opulent desk together with a brass letter opener, slipping the blade under the edge and neatly slicing it open. He pulls out the folded paper inside, opening it, sliding his eyes over the text.
Kir stiffens a little. Then he folds the paper and sets it down. He lifts his eyes to lock with mine, but he says nothing.
“Well?!” I blurt, unable to keep it in any longer.
Kir sighs. There’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze that makes my chest tighten.
“Well, on the plus side,” he grunts, trying to brush off the weight of the moment, “the blood test—that, frankly, you should have had doneyearsago instead of taking William’s word for it—says you don’t have Huntington’s disease.”
I stare at him. My heart stutters.
I mean, that’s great. Better than great—it’s fucking incredible. I’ve spent my entire life thinking I had a death sentence hanging over me. And now, in a few words, Kir’s erased that fear.
But that isnotwhat I’m focusing on right now.
“Kir…” I prompt. My palms feel sweaty, and I’m almost afraid to hear the words.
“The downside is,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, “you might owe me a shitload of Father’s Day cards.”
The room goes still as we lock eyes.
Blue on blue.
“Holyfuck,” I whisper, my throat tight.
Kir watches me for a moment, then nods slowly, his brow knitting. “Yeah.”
We sit there, just staring at each other, the room filling with the gravity of what this really means. My heart is pounding, and I can’t quite breathe. He’s been this looming figure in my life—someone I’ve admired and respected for years. And now, knowing he’s my biological father…
It’s overwhelming.
It’s insane.
It’s…awesome,actually.
Suddenly, it hits both of us simultaneously, and we’re out of our chairs, rushing at each other. I don’t know who moved first. It doesn’t matter. I throw my arms around him, and he pulls me close in the kind of hug I never thought I’d experience. It’s fierce and protective and raw, with years of pent-up emotion crashing through both of us at once.
“I’m so sorry,” Kir murmurs against my hair.
“For what?” I choke, tears burning my eyes.
“For not knowing. For not being there from the start,” he says, his grip tightening.
I pull back, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “You were there when it mattered,” I whisper. “When I needed saving, and a purpose, and a new future.”
We hold each other for another heartbeat or two, letting it all sink in, before the door slams open and Damian bursts into the room, his expression impatient.
“Well?!” he demands, glancing between the two of us like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.
