Over the next three weeks, Declan’s private jet remained parked at Fulton County Airport. The executive board of Hawthorne Global in New York was in sheer panic, bombarding his encrypted phone with urgent messages regarding an impending multinational merger. Declan ignored them all.

For the first time in his thirty-four years, the stock market did not matter.

He showed up at Piedmont Park every single afternoon at three o'clock. By the end of the second week, he had abandoned the designer gifts. Instead, he brought boxes of sidewalk chalk, packs of juice boxes, and pockets full of smooth river stones he had spent an hour selecting because Nora liked skipping them across the park pond.

He learned their worlds.

He learned that Clara was allergic to strawberries and possessed a terrifyingly sharp memory—she could memorize entire nursery books after hearing them twice. He learned that Nora was intensely sensitive, crying if an ant was accidentally stepped on, requiring soft voices and patient reassurance. And he learned that Maeve was a born rebel, possessing his own stubborn temper and a relentless desire to climb trees she was far too small to conquer.

On a warm Thursday afternoon, tragedy struck the playground. Maeve attempted to scale the wooden ladder of the high slide, lost her footing, and took a hard tumble onto the woodchips, scraping her elbow.

Before Cassidy could even push off the bench, Declan had sprinted across the mulch. He scooped Maeve into his arms with instincts he didn't know he possessed, checking her head, cradling her shaking shoulders against his chest.

"I’ve got you," Declan murmured desperately, his voice thick with raw terror and love. "I’ve got you, baby. You’re okay. You’re safe."

Maeve buried her face in his neck, her tiny fingers clutching the collar of his shirt, sobbing loudly. Declan held her tight, gently rocking her back and forth, kissing her hair repeatedly until her frantic gasps subsided into quiet hiccups.

Across the playground, Cassidy stood frozen.

She watched the ruthless CEO who had once treated marriage like a corporate acquisition pressing his face against their daughter’s messy curls, completely unbothered by the dirt smearing across his expensive linen shirt.

For the first time in five years, the bitter ice encasing Cassidy’s heart showed a visible, terrifying crack.

***