Page 16 of The One Who Changed Everything

I watched Sophia's chest rise and fall in the rhythm of innocent fascination, oblivious to the storm brewing just beyond the horizon of her world. Mercers were known for their ruthlessness in business. If Evan—or worse, his family—discovered Sophia was one of them, what lengths would they go to claim her?

"Did you see that one?" Sophia pointed toward the eastern sky.

"Ooh, purple," I murmured, my response automatic as my thoughts churned. My daughter needed protection; not from the imaginary villains of comic book lore, but from a real threat wrapped in power and prestige. I couldn't let the Mercers swoop in and upend the life we'd built, brick by hard-fought brick.

The secrets I'd carried felt heavier than ever, but they were mine to bear—for Sophia. For the love that bound us tighter than the tightest knot.

Sophia rested her head against my shoulder, her energy spent from the excitement of the day. I knew she felt safe in my arms, unaware of the storm brewing just beyond our little balcony. As the echoes of the fireworks dwindled as my watch display approached midnight, I closed my eyes and offered up a silent prayer, a plea really, for strength and guidance.

I pleaded with God to help me keep her safe.

My carefully constructed world was trembling beneath the weight of secrets and inevitable confrontations on the horizon. Evan Mercer’s unexpected reappearance in my life threatened everything. But I was afraid I was out of options.

CHAPTER 8

Evan

Iwasn’t sure why I was at the library—to confront Samantha? Demand answers? Maybe just to lay eyes on her again.

But before I could figure it out, I saw someone I hadn’t expected.

Sophia.

Curled up in a worn armchair, a book balanced on her knees, completely lost to the world within its pages. Oblivious to me. Oblivious to the storm raging inside my chest.

And just like that, any illusion of control I had vanished.

I searched for any sign of Samantha, but she was nowhere to be found. Which was good, because I was ninety percent sure she would cut me off at the knees before she let me talk to Sophia alone.

"Hey there," I said softly, not wanting to startle the young girl.

Her head popped up, and even though I was a grown man who ran into burning buildings for a living, I found myself hesitating. The way she looked at me then, with that open, warm smile—it was enough to nudge my feet forward.

"Hi. You’re Evan, right?" She bookmarked her page with a gentle touch. “From the parade.”

"I am. And you’re Sophia.” She nodded shyly. “Whatcha reading?" I asked as I settled into the chair opposite hers, trying to make myself comfortable without engulfing the entire seat.

"It's a novel about time travel—really fascinating." Her eyes lit up, animated by the topic.

"Time travel, huh? Ever wish you could zip back to certain moments or...?" I trailed off, genuinely curious about her answer.

"Sometimes," she admitted, tilting her head thoughtfully. "But more than going back, I think I'd like to see where things end up. To see if…" She trailed off, her cheeks pinkening. She had that look of someone far older than her thirteen years, like she'd pondered these questions before.

"To see your future," I said, nodding slowly. "Are you sure you want to know? Knowing could be the thing that changes it."

"Exactly! That’s what this book is about," she said, lifting it slightly to show me the cover. "Every choice you make sets off a chain reaction. It’s kind of cool to think about."

"Sounds pretty deep for a summer read," I said with a grin.

Sophia laughed, the sound light and effortless. "What can I say? I like my vacations with a side of overthinking."

"Can't argue with that," I replied, chuckling.

We fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that wasn't awkward but felt like the pause between paragraphs on a page. I watched her as she fiddled with the edge of her book.

"So," Sophia said, suddenly tilting her head to one side as if struck by a sudden thought, "do you know my mom very well?"

I paused, feeling the weight of years in her simple question. There was a history there, one that hung heavy in my chest. I chose my words carefully. "We were friends a long time ago," I finally replied, the hint of nostalgia creeping into my voice like smoke through closed doors.

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