Chris's face fell, pain twisting every line. And Susan, steadying herself against the ache in her chest, knew she meant it. She was done with men. Done with him.
The word lodged in his chest like shrapnel.
Custody.
Chris couldn't breathe. For a heartbeat, he swore the air had been sucked out of the room. Leah shifted in his arms, a soft weight against him, the only proof he hadn't dreamt her into existence. His daughter. His flesh and blood.
Susan's voice echoed, flat and merciless. "I just want to talk about Leah's custody."
Her eyes had been steel when she said it. Not hate-filled. Not fiery. Worse, detached, like she had closed the door on them long before he ever stepped through the café.
He forced himself to place Leah back into Susan's arms. His hand brushed hers, and for a flicker of a moment, he felt the tremor in her fingers. She was shaking too. But she wouldn't look at him. "I'll have my lawyer reach out," she said quietly, eyes fixed on the baby pressed to her chest. "This isn't… it isn't about us anymore. It's about her."
Her. Leah.
Chris nodded because if he opened his mouth, he would fall apart.
When he stepped into the night, the air cut like glass. Cars rushed by, people laughed on sidewalks, mercilessly, as if the world hadn't just ripped him open.
He walked without knowing where. His polished shoes struck pavement, but inside, everything was chaos.
He had fought competitors, clawed his way to the top, built an empire on ruthless precision. He'd stared down investors, enemies, his own family. He'd never flinched. But tonight, one woman had destroyed him with a single word.
Custody.
Michael's voice thundered in his skull: Go first, think later. You're a father.
A father.
His throat burned, his hands shaking as he stopped under the harsh glow of a streetlight. He wasn't angry at Susan not really. She had every right to hate him, to push him away, to protect Leah from the mess he'd made of everything. He had failed her in every possible way: as a man, as a protector, as someone who had promised to stand at her side.
But Leah?
No. He wouldn't, couldn't fail her too.
Not when her eyes looked up at him with unguarded innocence. Not when she had smiled at him like she already knew he was her father.
hris had spent his whole life building walls, wearing armour. But walls didn't matter anymore. Pride didn't matter anymore.
For the first time in his life, love not power, not money, not control was the fight that mattered.
And he would bleed, crawl, beg, whatever it took.
Because he wasn't giving up. Not on Susan. Not on Leah.
Never.
Susan couldn't sleep.
Leah's soft breaths filled the small room, her tiny fist curled against Susan's chest as she nursed, but Susan's mind wouldn't stop racing. Chris's face haunted her the crack in his voice, the torment in his eyes, the way he had cradled Leah like she was spun glass.
And then that word. Custody.
The moment it left her lips, she had felt it cut through him. She'd seen the devastation in his eyes. But she couldn't take it back.
She had to protect herself. Protect Leah.
Her past had taught her too well: promises were fragile, men even more so. Chris had proven it when he let her walk out, when he didn't come after her, when he let silence grow in the space where love should have been. But the way he had looked at Leah…
Susan pressed her lips to the baby's silky hair, breathing her in, grounding herself. She couldn't let her heart soften. She couldn't let him in again, not when one more betrayal might shatter her beyond repair.
Susan wanted to believe what she had. That the quiet life, the bookstore café, the gentle kindness of neighbours it was enough.
But she remembered Chris. His touch, his voice, his maddening ability to break her walls. She hated him for it. She missed him for it. She hated herself for missing him.
Now he was back, and he wasn't just Chris anymore. He was Leah's father.
The thought twisted her inside out. Because no matter how much she wanted to shut him out, Leah had smiled at him. Reached for him. And Susan knew, deep down, that she couldn't erase him from their daughter's life.
But she could keep her guard up.
She could make him prove it.
If Chris truly wanted a place in their lives, he would have to fight harder than he ever had. Not with money. Not with charm. Not with empty apologies.
But with actions. Until then, she would protect her heart and her daughter's with everything she had left.
Chris eventually found himself parked in front of Susan's little place.
He hadn't planned it. The car had simply carried him there, as though his body knew what his mind refused to admit: he couldn't stay away.
It was dark, and time made no sense as he leaned against the hood, staring at the door. He wasn't here to start a custody battle. He didn't want lawyers and courtrooms. He wanted his family back.
And if Susan demanded that he go down on his knees, then he would.
He stayed all night, eyes fixed on the quiet house, waiting. When the sun rose and the front door finally opened, his chest clenched.
Susan stepped out, Leah balanced against her chest, and froze when she saw him.
Her grip on her bag tightened. She looked torn between bolting or staying.
Chris didn't give her the chance. He walked to her, each step steady, deliberate, until she had no choice but to face him. His mind made up, he had never lost anything he set his mind on and he won't go weak simply because it was an emotional battle, his greatest weakness.
"I don't want a custody battle, Susan and i know you don't want that too," he said, voice low, raw. "I'm not that man. I just… I want a second chance. With you. With Leah."
He heard how pathetic it sounded even as the words left his mouth, but he didn't care.
Susan's face softened only for a breath before it hardened again.
"You don't know me, Chris."
"I do."
"No." Her whisper cut like glass.
"I know enough," he snapped, then forced himself to breathe, to rein himself in. His jaw ached as he added, softer,
"Please. Hear me out."
She lifted her hand to silence him. "You've said enough."
When she moved to step past him, he blocked her way.
"I'm not leaving," he told her. His voice dipped lower, steady as steel. "Not you. Not Leah. I made that mistake once, and I will never repeat it."
Her lips parted, her eyes flicking between his face and the baby in her arms. He saw the war inside her, the walls she was clutching like armour.
"Then don't make this harder than it already is," she hissed.
"Is this because you want to be part of her life? I don't recall you being desperate to be a father" she sassed. He stepped impossibly close.
"I might be anything but I refuse to be that worse" he hissed
Chris exhaled, a heavy sigh that carried the weight of years. "Susan, you're the only woman I'll ever want. And whether you admit it or not, I'm the only man who can love you the way you deserve."
The words left him before he could stop them, and to his surprise, her eyes flickered not with anger, but something dangerously close to longing.
That flicker was all it took for him to move. He wasn't sitting around, waiting for her to thaw like some ice, while they both suffered in silence, drowning in their emotions.