Chapter 82
Faith’s Pov.
Astor’s silence was a strange comfort. It wasn’t an angry silence, or a cold one. It was just… quiet. A solid, reassuring quiet that settled my own racing heart a little.
Sometimes the person that you love doesn’t have to say something for you to understand.
He just took my hand, a gentle squeeze, and led me inside. The heavy door swung shut behind us, cutting off the last of the outside world, and then my breath hitched.
This wasn’t just a house.
My eyes swept around, taking everything in. Six years ago after the promise of staying with him for 1 month, on a rainy afternoon, we were curled up on an old sofa, just talking about silly things.
And he had asked me, almost out of nowhere, what my dream house would look like. I had described it then. Every single detail. The feeling of space, the connection to nature, the colors, the comfort. And this… this was it. Every single detail, brought to life.
It was the sweetest and most overwhelming feeling I’ve ever felt but I soaked it all in.
Walls of glass, everywhere. It wasn’t just big; it was open, airy, as if the forest outside had stretched its branches right into the living room. You could see almost everything, the tall trees, the hints of a winding path, the vast, people passing by if the curtains weren’t pulled. Inside, everything was soft gray. The kind of gray that felt calm and peaceful, like a cloudy morning sky. The furniture was big and comfy, with deep cushions, but still in shades of charcoal and silver. It was perfect. More than perfect. It was exactly what I had pictured, down to the way the light fell.
“Wow,” I whispered, my voice barely there. It was all so precise, so lovingly created. It was like he had painted my dreams onto a canvas, then built a house around it.
I don’t think I would have been this precise to details either but he was and it was special and heartwarming.
Marco, wild with energy, didn’t wait for my wonder to fade. He zoomed past my legs, a tiny whirlwind of curiosity. His little hands, sticky with who knows what adventure, reached out, eager to touch everything.
One thing about my naughty son is that if you take your eyes away from him even for a second, he will do unimaginable damage.
1/3
< Chapter 82
+25 Points
“Marco, STOP!” My heart leaped into my throat. “You’ll break something!” My voice came out sharper than I meant, echoing a little in all that glass and space. I imagined sticky fingerprints on flawless surfaces, loud crashes in the quiet perfection.
I love my son but he is chaotic.
Astor just chuckled. A deep, warm sound that made me look at him. He leaned down, ruffling Marco’s messy hair. “It’s your home, little one. Feel free. Explore.”
My mouth fell open. “Are you serious? He’ll ruin everything!” I hissed at Astor, glancing around at the expensive looking, pristine furniture.
Astor just smiled, a gentle, knowing look. “No, he won’t. And even if he did, it’s just stuff. This house is for him, too.” He then turned his gaze to me, his smile fading slightly, becoming more serious. “Speaking of Marco… when are you going to tell him I’m his father?”
My stomach twisted. Ready or not, this was happening. I had wondered when he’d bring it up. “Don’t you think… maybe you should build a relationship with him first?” I suggested, trying to keep my voice steady. “Let him get to know you, not just as… his mother’s new friend.”
I don’t know how Marco will react and I’m very protective of my son.
Astor shook his head slowly. “He’s so young, Faith. His mind is like a sponge right now. It adapts. He’ll take it in, process it. It’ll become part of his normal. Easier now than when he’s older and the shock hits harder. It’s not about being a new friend; it’s about knowing his truth.”
He had a point. A really good point. The thought of telling Marco when he was ten, or fifteen, and having him feel betrayed or confused… that was a weight I didn’t want to carry. “Okay,” I said, a little breathlessly. “I’ll tell him. Soon.” I agreed.
Astor actually laughed then. A real, deep laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “That’s a first, isn’t it? Us, talking, listening, deciding something together.”
I couldn’t help but smile back, a genuine smile this time. “Being parents changes everything,” I told him. “It makes you… grow up, I guess. You have to think about someone else first.”
He nodded, the laugh fading but the warmth staying in his eyes. “It certainly does.”
His words reminded me of someone else. The thought of Isabella hit me like a cold wave. Marco was gaining a father, finally, but Isabella… she would be losing one. My smile faded. “What about Isabella?” I asked, my voice softer now. “Marco’s gaining a father, but she’s… she’s going to lose one, isn’t she?” The question hung in the air, heavy and sad.
The fact that he was moving in with use meant that he would probably see her less.
2/3
< Chapter 82
+25 Points
Astor’s face grew serious again. He drew in a breath, about to speak. “I have to tell your something about Isabella…”
Then, before he could say another word, a sharp, cold jab hit me right in the chest. It wasn’t physical pain, but a deep, dark dread that made the hairs on my arms stand up. My breath hitched. I knew that feeling. A sick, sinking sensation that meant something truly awful had happened to someone connected to us.
Astor’s eyes, which had been warm a second ago, went suddenly still, distant. His hand instinctively went to his chest, right over his heart. He felt it too. The pack connection, strong and painful.
“Two people,” I whispered, the words barely a breath. My mind raced, trying to grasp the impossible. “Two of ours.”
He just nodded, his face grim. “Two.”
