“What do you want from me?” I asked.
Daniel’s expression softened.
“Nothing. I want you to decide what kind of man will inherit what remains.”
I looked at the children again.
Samuel had abandoned his toast and was moving the repaired train along the table. Lily was holding her rabbit close, watching the adults with the solemn patience of a child who knew something important was happening but trusted the people around her to keep her safe.
I turned to Evelyn.
“I need to go back to Chicago,” I said. “But I won’t disappear.”
She nodded slowly.
“You can call,” she said. “Once a week. No unexpected visits.”
“Agreed.”
“If the paternity test confirms you’re their father, we’ll work with a family counselor. You, me, and Julian.”
“Yes.”
“And your mother stays away until I say otherwise.”
“I’ll make that clear.”
“Not just to her. To everyone.”
