The Proof He Could Not Ignore
I took a few steps forward but maintained a disciplined distance between us.
Lily blinked her eyes open, squinting slightly against the bright fluorescent lights of the boardroom. Her irises were a distinct, clear gray-blue—the exact, striking shade that belonged to Dominic’s late mother, visible in the archived family portraits that used to hang in his estate.
Dominic inhaled sharply, his chest hitching. “She has my mother’s eyes,” he whispered.
“She does,” I said.
His hand lifted instinctively, hovering in the space between us, completely uncertain of its own right to move. That single hesitation revealed more to me than any rehearsed apology ever could.
Dominic Vance was a man who commanded boardrooms under the absolute assumption that the world was built to obey his directives. He signed mergers that shifted global markets. He authorized deals worth more than entire generations would see. But standing in front of his four-month-old daughter, he looked entirely hollowed out.
