One Year Later
The Monaco penthouse had been transformed.
Where once there had been austere minimalism—cold marble, sharp angles, furniture positioned for aesthetic dominance rather than comfort—now there was life. Toys scattered across plush rugs that softened the hard floors. Finger paintings hung on walls that used to display expensive but sterile art. Baby-proofing on sharp corners. A high chair at the dining table. Blocks and stuffed animals and board books everywhere.
The fortress had become a home.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the living room where Leo Drake—fifteen months old, sturdy and bright-eyed—was engaged in the serious business of building a block tower. His dark hair was Alexander's, his determined expression pure Drake genetics, but when he smiled up at his parents, Emily saw her own joy reflected back.
"Mama!" Leo held up a red block triumphantly. "Look!"
