Page 86 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

The world tilts.

I barely hear Desmond murmuring something as he steps past, barely feel Achilles hovering behind me. My entire being narrows to the sight in front of me- my daughter, her tiny fingers curled into the fabric of Piers’s jacket, her soft breaths steady and safe.

I reach for her instinctively, and Piers hands her over. And as soon as she’s in my arms, my heart cracks wide open. The warmth of her little body seeps into me the second she’s in my arms, as if I’ve been wandering in the cold for years and just stepped into the sun.

Safe. She’s safe.

I press my face into her curls, breathing her in, my arms tightening around her like I can absorb her back into me. I whisper, “I was so scared I’d lost you… I don’t want to ever lose you again.” The sobs break free, raw and unstoppable, shaking through me as I cling to her. “I’m so sorry,” I choke out, the words tumbling out of me.

My legs go weak, but I force myself to stay upright, to hold on.

And then- I look up.

Piers is still there. Still standing close enough that I can feel the space where his warmth just was. He looks different- rougher, sharper. His face carries new lines, his jaw is set harder, and there’s a cut above his brow that wasn’t there before.

And for the first time in two years, our eyes meet.

Time folds in on itself- all this time, the distance, the pain- collapsing into this single breath where nothing else exists but him. In the dark well of his eyes, I see everything- every unsaid word, every stolen glance, every night spent wanting but never having.

He’s pulling me back to the only place I was ever meant to be. His stare burns, heavy with the life we never lived, and the truth that we were never meant to end.

For two years, I told myself I could forget him, that I could erase the way he made me feel. But now, standing here, I know I never stood a chance. I thought I’d hardened, thought I’d learned to live without him. But one look, and I’m right back where I started.

It’s the look of a man who was robbed of something he never stopped craving. In his eyes, I see recognition. Possession. A love that never had the chance to bloom, now clawing its way back to life.

My breath catches. He looks at me like I belong to him. Like I always have. I’ve been running. Hiding. Trying to forget the way he made me feel the last time we stood this close. But now, I know I never could.

This isn’t just a reunion. It’s a reckoning.

And God help me, but after everything- after all the hurt, all the years, all the war between us- he still feels like home.

Desmond and Achilles slip out without a word, leaving me alone with the one person I never expected to see again- the love of my life and the father of my child.

Chapter 42

Fantasia

Piers stands near the door, hands in his pockets, his eyes soft but wary as he watches me. In the past, our fights would’ve escalated, voices sharp and unrelenting, filling every corner of whatever space we occupied. But now, we both speak quietly- for the sake of Valeria sleeping in my arms.

“Have you been well?” Piers asks, his voice low, careful.

The question catches me off guard. For a moment, I almost brush it off, almost give him the easy answer. But I hesitate, gripping the blanket wrapped around Valeria a little tighter. I could tell him I’m fine, but that wouldn’t be the truth.

“I’ve been…” I trail off, then shake my head and lift my chin a little. “I’ve been getting by. It hasn’t been easy, but I didn’t want to burden you.”

Piers exhales a measured breath slowly through his nose, his eyes dropping for the briefest second before he looks at me again, his expression carefully neutral- but not quite.

“What’s her name?”

My lips part slightly at the question, and then I look down at my daughter, my heart swelling.

“Valeria,” I tell him. “She’s stubborn. Just like you… and optimistic.” A small, almost involuntary smile touches my lips. “Even when things don’t go her way, she just… keeps trying, like she knows something better is coming. She’s got a temper when she wants something, and she doesn’t give up until she gets it. But she’s clever, too. Always watching, always figuring things out. And she’s strong.”

I’m so proud to be a mum and it’s okay to let myself think about what I’ve done for her, what I’ve built. She’s a reminder of everything I’ve worked for- everything I’ve fought to give her.

I’ve thought about it before, of course. Late at night, when I’m exhausted but content, when I see how far we’ve come. But saying it out loud tohim- to the man who helped create her- it feels different. I want him to know. I want him to see what I’ve done, whatwemade.

I might not be perfect, but she’s perfect to me. She deserves better than the mess I was when I first left, when I couldn’t even figure out how to take care of myself, let alone a child. I remember not knowing how to wash dishes, how to make sure the house was clean, how to make sure I stayed sober. Back then, I was a wreck. But now, when I look at Valeria, I know I've done something right.

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