Chapter 12
Isla
The doorbell rang at exactly seven o'clock.
I'd been staring at it for the last five minutes, knowing he'd be punctual. Knowing that when I opened that door, everything would change.
Leo looked up from his dinosaurs, curious. "Who's that, Mama?"
"Remember the friend I told you about? And the nice doctor?" I smoothed his hair, trying to keep my voice steady. "They're here to play that science game."
Dr. Romero had arrived fifteen minutes earlier, quiet and professional, setting up his materials on my coffee table. Now he stood, medical bag in hand, waiting.
I took a breath and opened the door.
Cassian stood in the hallway, dressed casually in dark jeans and a black sweater. I'd never seen him in anything but suits. He looked… younger. More human. And absolutely terrified, though he was trying to hide it.
"Hi," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes moved past me, searching. "Is he—"
"In the living room." I stepped aside. "Come in."
Cassian entered slowly, like he was walking into a minefield. His gaze swept the apartment—the crayon drawings on the fridge, the toy bins, the tiny shoes by the door—before landing on the small figure on the floor.
Leo looked up, those dark eyes—Cassian's eyes—studying the tall stranger with open curiosity.
"Hi," Leo said simply.
I watched Cassian's face transform. The hard businessman vanished, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. He looked like he'd been punched.
"Hi," he managed, his voice rough.
I moved to Leo, crouching beside him. "Leo, this is Mr. Cassian. He's the friend I told you about. And this is Dr. Romero. They want to play that science game, remember?"
Leo held up his T-rex. "This is Rex. King din’saur."
"He looks very fierce," Cassian said, and I could hear him struggling to find the right tone. "What does he do?"
"He eats everything!" Leo roared, moving the dinosaur toward Cassian. "Rawr!"
Something flickered across Cassian's face—surprise, maybe, or wonder. He looked at me, and for a moment, I saw past all the anger and betrayal to something else. Fear. The same fear I'd been living with for two and a half years.
He didn't know how to be a father any more than I'd known how to tell him he was one.
"Mr. Barone?" Dr. Romero prompted gently. "Shall we proceed with the test?"
The moment broke. Cassian nodded, his mask sliding back into place.
The test was quick. Dr. Romero explained it to Leo as a "tickle game," swabbing the inside of his cheek while Leo giggled. Then Cassian's turn. Another swab. Done.
"Results will be expedited," Dr. Romero said, packing his materials. "You should have confirmation by morning, Ms. Quinn."
I showed him out, and suddenly it was just the three of us.
Leo returned to his dinosaurs, already forgetting the strange doctor. Cassian stood frozen in the middle of my living room, looking lost.
"Would you—" I forced the words out. "Would you like to stay? For a bit? Leo's bedtime isn't until eight. You could… get to know him."
I watched him struggle with the decision. Part of him clearly wanted to run. But his eyes kept drifting back to Leo, hungry and desperate.
"Yes," he said finally. "I'd like that."
The silence stretched between us, awkward and heavy. Leo continued playing with his dinosaurs, oblivious to the tension.
"Have you eaten?" I asked, defaulting to the mundane because I didn't know what else to say. "I was about to make Leo dinner. It's nothing fancy—just chicken nuggets and mac and cheese—but you're welcome to—"
"Yes. Thank you." Cassian's formality seemed absurd in my tiny kitchen, but I nodded and moved toward the stove.
He followed me, stopping at the edge of the kitchen like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to enter. His eyes tracked every movement as I pulled out Leo's dinosaur-shaped plates, the special fork he insisted on using, and the sippy cup with the straw.
"You do this every night," he said quietly. Not a question.
"Every night." I turned on the stove, hands shaking slightly as I poured mac and cheese into a pot. "Sometimes he helps. He likes to stir."
"What else does he like?"
The question caught me off guard. I glanced at him, finding genuine curiosity in his expression.
"Dinosaurs, obviously. And trucks. He's obsessed with garbage trucks—we have to watch them every Tuesday." I stirred the pasta, grateful for something to do with my hands. "He loves being outside. The playground. Puddles. He's fearless on the slide but terrified of the neighbor's cat."
Cassian absorbed every word like he was memorizing it. "What's his favorite food?"
"Pancakes. Especially if I cut them into shapes." I smiled despite everything. "And any fruit. He'd eat strawberries for every meal if I let him."
"Does he sleep through the night?"
"Mostly. Sometimes he has bad dreams and comes to my bed." I lowered my voice. "He's a cuddler. Always has been."
Something crossed Cassian's face—pain, maybe, or regret. All the nights he'd missed. All the mornings he'd never woken up to find a small body curled against him.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I know that doesn't fix anything, but I am. So sorry."
He didn't respond, just turned to watch Leo, who was now making his dinosaurs fight an epic battle across the living room floor.
"Dinner's ready," I called to Leo, plating the food.
Leo scrambled up and climbed into his booster seat at the small table. Cassian hesitated, then sat in the chair across from him—too large for the space, looking completely out of place in my domestic chaos.
I set plates down, including one for Cassian with a regular fork. Leo immediately dug in, getting cheese sauce on his chin within seconds.
"Use your napkin, baby," I reminded gently, sitting beside him.
Cassian picked at his food, but mostly watched Leo eat with single-minded determination.
"Mr. Cassian," Leo said suddenly, looking up. "Like din'saurs?"
"I… don't know much about them," Cassian admitted.
Leo's eyes widened in horror. "No din'saurs?"
"No."
"Me sad." Leo took another bite of mac and cheese. "Teach you. Rex is T-rex. He da king. But Steg-rus has best tail."
"I see." Cassian's lips twitched. "What about Triceratops?"
"Okay. No beat T-rex." Leo demonstrated with his hands. "T-rex wins."
"Every time?"
"Ev’ry time," Leo confirmed solemnly.
I watched them, my heart twisting. This should have been normal. Dinner with both his parents. But instead, it was this strange, painful first meeting between a father and son who should have known each other from the beginning.
After dinner, Leo tugged on Cassian's hand—the first time he'd voluntarily touched him.
"Come see!"
Cassian looked at me for permission. I nodded, following as Leo led him down the short hallway to his small bedroom. The walls were painted blue, covered with glow-in-the-dark stars. A bookshelf overflowed with picture books, and toys littered the floor.
"My bed," Leo announced, jumping on it. "And Rex." He pointed to a stuffed dinosaur. "He sleep in my bed."
Cassian stood in the doorway, taking it all in. His son's room. The first time seeing it.
"And my trucks." Leo pulled a bin from under his bed, dumping toy vehicles everywhere. "Like dis one. Garbage truck. See?"
He demonstrated, making engine noises. Cassian crouched down and, to my surprise, picked up another truck.
"What's this one?"
"Dump truck!" Leo grabbed it. "Vroom, vroom!"
They played for twenty minutes, Cassian following Leo's lead, learning the rules of toddler vehicle play. I leaned against the doorframe, watching this surreal scene—Cassian Barone, billionaire CEO, sitting on my son's bedroom floor playing with dump trucks.
At 7:45, I interrupted. "Leo, time to start getting ready for bed."
"Nooo," Leo whined. "Playing!"
"I know, baby, but it's almost bedtime. Say goodnight to Mr. Cassian."
Leo's face fell. "Does he have to go?"
I looked at Cassian, unsure.
"What's your bedtime routine?" he asked quietly.
"Bath, pajamas, story, then sleep."
"Could I…" He hesitated. "Could I stay for the story?"
Leo's face lit up. "Yes! Read din'saur one!"
My throat tightened. "Okay. Let me get him ready."
I gave Leo a quick bath while Cassian waited in the living room. When we emerged—Leo in his rocket ship pajamas, hair damp and curling—Cassian was standing by the window, staring out at the city.
"Ready for story!" Leo announced, climbing into bed.
I grabbed the dinosaur book from the shelf and handed it to Cassian. He took it like I'd given him something precious and fragile.
Cassian sat on the edge of Leo's toddler bed—too large for it, looking absurd and heartbreaking all at once. Leo snuggled under his blanket, Rex tucked under his arm.
"T-rex make friends," Leo explained seriously. "But he scary."
Cassian opened the book and began to read, his deep voice surprisingly gentle. I stood in the doorway, watching my son listen to his father read to him for the first time.
By the end of the story, Leo's eyes were heavy. Cassian closed the book, clearly unsure what to do next.
"Goodnight, Leo," he said softly.
"Night, Mr. Cassian." Leo's eyes drifted closed. "Come back 'morrow?"
Cassian's jaw tightened. "Yes. I'll come back."
I turned on Leo's nightlight and ushered Cassian out, leaving the door cracked. In the living room, we stood in awkward silence.
"Thank you," Cassian said finally. "For letting me stay."
"He's your son. You have a right to know him."
"Do I?" His voice was bitter. "Because for two and a half years, I didn't. I had no rights. No say. Nothing."
"I know." My voice broke. "I know I was wrong. I was scared and selfish, and I made terrible choices. But Cassian—" I looked up at him. "I did the best I could. I've given him everything I have. He's happy and healthy and loved—"
"And he has no father." Cassian's eyes were hard. "You gave him everything except that."
The words hit like a slap. Because they were true.
"I can't change the past," I whispered. "But we can figure out the future. Together. For Leo."
"Can we?" He moved toward the door. "Because from where I'm standing, you've made it clear what you think of my role in his life."
"That's not fair—"
"Fair?" He turned back, and I saw the full weight of his anger. "You want to talk about fair? You got two and a half years with my son. You got his first word, his first step, every moment I'll never get back. So don't talk to me about fair, Isla."
I had no response. Nothing that would make this better.
Cassian opened the door. "The results will be in by morning. After that, we'll discuss arrangements."
"Arrangements?" The word felt ominous.
"For Leo. For his future. For ensuring this never happens again—me being shut out of my son's life." His gaze pinned me. "Sleep well, Isla. Tomorrow, everything changes."
He left, the door closing softly behind him.
I stood there for a long moment, then checked on Leo. He was sound asleep, Rex clutched tight, peaceful and oblivious to the storm about to hit.
I returned to my bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand. No messages. No missed calls. Just silence.
The test was done. By morning, I'd have confirmation of what I already knew—Leo was Cassian's son. And with that confirmation would come—what? Custody battles? Lawyers? Would Cassian try to take him from me?
I'd seen the way he looked at Leo tonight. The hunger. The possessiveness. The determination.
Cassian Barone didn't lose. He didn't compromise. He took what he wanted and crushed anyone who stood in his way.
And now he wanted his son.
I pulled up my phone and searched for family lawyers, bookmarking three. Just in case. Just to be prepared.
But even as I did, I knew the truth: I couldn't fight Cassian. He had unlimited resources, unlimited power. If he wanted Leo, he could take him.
The only question was whether he'd let me be part of my son's life when he did.
I set the phone down and lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep felt impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Cassian's face—the anger, the pain, the determination.
Tomorrow, everything changes, he'd said.
And I believed him.
I just didn't know if I'd survive what came next.