Damian's POV
The first time Liam called me "Daddy," I had to leave the room.
It happened three days after the confession. I'd been coming to the apartment every evening—not staying, not pushing, just being there. Dinner with Arabella and Liam. Bedtime stories. A chance to learn the sound of my son's voice, the way he laughed, the serious expression he wore when he was arranging his toy boats by size.
I was sitting on the floor with him, helping him build a Lego castle that looked more like a collapsed bridge, when he said it.
"Daddy, can you pass me the blue one?"
Daddy.
Not "the man from the park." Not "mister." Daddy.
I passed him the blue brick. Then I stood up and walked to the kitchen, where Arabella was making tea, and I stood with my back to her, gripping the edge of the cou
