Faith's Pov
I stopped dead in the threshold of his office.
He was holding Marco on one hip, and standing right next to him was Isabella.
The sight was a physical punch.
They looked like a family. It wasn't just that they were side-by-side; it was the way Isabella leaned into him slightly when she spoke, and the way Astor’s hand rested casually on her shoulder when he set Marco down. It sliced through me like glass.
That could have been us.
In the back of my mind, that awful, whining voice started up. I could have had my family intact, my son raised with his father, and maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be standing here right now, tortured by the fact that I didn't know if my other daughter—my baby girl—was safe, or if she even knew what her own mother looked like.
The pain was so sharp
