Chapter 186

Bianca

I stood outside Callum’s bedroom door with my hand hovering over the handle. Isaac was beside me, and I could feel his hot breath tickling the hairs on the back of my neck. When I shot a glance at him over my shoulder, his eyes were fixed on the doorknob, waiting for me to open it.

“He’s probably playing with his blocks,” I said quietly. “He builds these elaborate castles and then knocks them down, and...”

Fuck. We both knew I was stalling.

Taking a deep breath, I turned the handle and pushed open the door.

Callum was sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor, surrounded by wooden blocks and toy soldiers. His dark hair was messy from playing, and he was making quiet sound effects as he moved the little figures around his castle.

“Callum?” I called softly.

He looked up, and I watched his eyes widen as he saw Isaac standing behind me. For a moment, nobody moved. Callum’s blue eyes flicked between me and the tall man in the doorway with uncertainty.

And then something seemed to click.

“Daddy!” Callum scrambled to his feet and launched himself across the room. Isaac dropped to one knee just in time to catch him as Callum threw his arms around his neck.

“I knew you would come for me!” Callum cried, squeezing Isaac tight.

The air left my lungs in a rush. Isaac’s eyes went wide as he wrapped his arms around our son, holding him with both bone-crushing tightness and a delicate touch as if afraid he might break him.

“Hi,” Isaac said, and his voice cracked on the word. “Hi, um… Buddy.”

Despite the awkwardness, my eyes filled with tears instantly. Blinking them away, I pressed my back against the doorframe so as not to collapse and watched as Callum pulled back to study Isaac’s face with a serious expression.

“You look just like me,” Callum said.

Isaac laughed, the sound shaky. “You think so?”

“Uh-huh. Mama said I have your eyes.” Callum touched Isaac’s cheek with one small hand. “And your nose. But I got Mama’s dark hair. And her st…stub…”

“Stubborn streak,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

“Did she say that?” Isaac glanced at me over his shoulder.

Callum shook his head. “Nuh-uh. Auntie Clara says it all the time when I don’t want to eat my vegetables.”

I wiped at my eyes, trying to pull myself together. But watching them together was breaking me piece by piece.

“Do you want to see my toys?” Callum asked, already tugging Isaac toward the blocks.

“I’d love to.”

For the next hour, I watched from the doorway as my son showed Isaac everything in his room. The castle he’d been building. His collection of toy cars. The stuffed dragon Benjamin had given him for his birthday. The picture books Clara read to him every night. The sweater Elara knitted him last year.

Isaac listened to every word, asked questions about each toy, let Callum explain the elaborate backstories he’d created for his action figures. He looked completely absorbed, like nothing else in the world mattered except what his five-year-old son was telling him.

Goddess, it made my chest hurt so fucking bad.

“This is my favorite book,” Callum said, pulling a worn copy of a picture book we’d read a thousand times over from his bookshelf. “Mama reads it to me every night, but she does funny voices.”

“Funny voices?” Isaac glanced at me with a raised eyebrow.

I shrugged. “He’s very particular about the monster voices.”

Callum climbed onto Isaac’s lap without hesitation, opening the book. “Will you read it to me, Daddy?”

Isaac’s throat worked. “Of course.”

By the time Isaac finished the story—complete with monster voices—it was well past Callum’s bedtime. I started to move forward to help with the nighttime routine, but Isaac was already helping Callum into his pajamas, listening patiently as Callum chattered about his day.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Callum asked as Isaac tucked him into bed.

Isaac hesitated, glancing at me. “I… I live far away, buddy. But I’ll visit as often as I can.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Callum smiled and closed his eyes. Isaac sat on the edge of the bed for a few more minutes, just watching him fall asleep.

When we finally left Callum’s room, I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. I had to press my hand into the hallway wall to keep myself upright, and I hoped Isaac didn’t notice the way my knees were trembling.

“He’s incredible,” Isaac said quietly as we walked down the hallway.

“He is.” I stopped outside my office door. “We need to talk.”

Isaac nodded and followed me inside. I went straight to my desk and pulled out the bottom drawer, retrieving the manila folder that contained the evidence that had convinced me he wanted me dead.

“This is everything I gathered,” I said, spreading the documents across my desk. “Letters, bank statements, photographs. All of it pointed to you.”

Isaac picked up one of the letters, studying it closely. “This handwriting…”

“Looks like yours.”

“But it’s not.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled through something. “Look at this.”

He handed me the phone. On the screen was a photograph of a letter—handwritten, in Isaac’s familiar script.

“My dearest Bianca,

I don’t know if I’ll ever send this, but I need to write it down. Need to get the words out before they eat me alive.

You’re gone. You and our baby are never coming home. But I can’t accept it. I keep thinking you’ll walk through the door with that look on your face—the sour one that makes you look about five years older. I keep thinking you’ll scold me for being a fool. And I am one. Goddess, I am.

I failed you. I should have protected you better. Should have seen the danger coming. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there when you needed me most.

I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment we met, and I’ll love you until my last breath. You and our child were my everything.

I’m lost without you.

Forever yours, Isaac”

The words blurred as tears filled my eyes, but I maintained my composure. I handed the phone back with shaking hands and picked up the forged letter, comparing the handwriting.

“Look at the ‘a’s,” Isaac said, pointing. “In the real letter, I make them with a single stroke. But in this fake one, they’re formed differently—two separate strokes.”

He was right. Now that I was looking for it, I could see the subtle differences. Whoever had forged the letter had done a good job, but it wasn’t perfect.

“And here,” Isaac continued, pointing to another word. “The way I form my ‘g’s. These ones are more circular than mine.”

I stared at the documents spread across my desk for a long time. Maybe too long, but Isaac didn’t speak, didn’t try to interrupt the whirling of my mind. He was right—he was fucking right.

“He’s telling the truth,” my wolf whispered.

“I know.” The words came out sharper than I meant them to.

For another long moment, I just stared at the picture of that damn letter on his phone. My fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. Then: “So you’re saying it’s all fake.”

“All of it.” Isaac’s jaw clenched. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to make you think I wanted you dead.”

A tear rolled down my cheek as I looked at the letter on his phone again. He’d written it after my supposed death, pouring his heart out on paper. The pain in every word was real.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, sinking into my desk chair. “I’m so sorry I believed it. That I kept Callum from you.”

“You were protecting him. I understand that.” Isaac moved closer, reaching out like he wanted to touch my face.

Suddenly, I became aware of how close we were sitting, how our knees were almost touching. Isaac’s blue eyes were fixed on mine, and I could see my own pain reflected there.

“All those years,” I breathed. “You mourned us. Mourned me.”

“Every day.”

The space between us seemed to shrink. I could smell his familiar scent, could see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes. My wolf was practically purring.

Isaac leaned closer, his gaze dropping to my lips. My heart hammered against my ribs as I tilted my face up toward his. For a moment, it felt like the past five years melted away. Like we were just Isaac and Bianca again, young and in love.

Carefully, I sent a brief thrum through the bond—a tentative prod as if to say, “I’m here.” The mark on my neck warmed slightly, and I felt a pulse spike through it like two taps of a distant drumbeat.

But then Isaac jerked back suddenly, as if I’d burned him, and the bond went cold again.

And just like that, the brief moment of magic was shattered.