Page 104 of Single Mom's Daddies
Her nurse, Melanie, sits just behind us, quietly inputting numbers into her tablet. I keep my voice soft, animated, pausing for giggles, answering the occasional question about what a hedgehog would pack for vacation.
The book is nonsense. The company is perfect.
They know they’re related, though I think it’s ephemeral to them. But they fit together like they’ve always known. Mila and Alex accepted Ivy into their world on sight. Like their hearts recognized each other in ways their minds haven’t caught up to.
I don’t care what the rest of the world looks like. I don’t care how broken things are outside these walls. This room feels like peace.
A knock sounds downstairs. Or maybe it’s a door closing too hard. I don’t know. I barely register it—until I hear shouting. Not raised voices. Shouting.
Then heavy footsteps. Boots. Everything goes still.
Melanie looks up. The color drains from her face.
“What was that?” Mila whispers.
I don’t get to answer because Victor bursts through the door. His eyes sweep the room, wild and sharp. Gun is in his hand. “Panic room. Now!”
My heart slams once against my ribs and then I’m on my feet. Ivy stumbles up behind me, clutching the book. Victor herds us out into the hall—me, the kids, the nurse—his body a wall between us and whatever’s coming. We reach the reinforced door in the hallway. He punches in the code and yanks it open.
“In. Now.”
Melanie ushers the kids through first. I go last.
Victor grabs my arm before I can disappear inside. He presses something into my hand. It’s a gun. Cold. Heavy.
I blink up at him.
He starts to speak, but I pop the clip, check it, snap it back into place, and flick the safety off and on again, then nod. “Understood.”
His mouth parts, eyes a little wider than before.
“I used to go hunting with my mom when I was little. Go. I’ve got this.”
He steps closer. His hand cradles the side of my face, eyes dark and burning. “I love you,” he says, voice breaking at the edges. “You hear me? I love you.”
Before I can answer—before I can even breathe—he kisses my forehead and shoves the door shut. The lock slides into place with a hard, final click.
And I’m left staring at the steel door, his words still ringing in my ears.
I love you.
It hits me in a way nothing else has. No one has ever said that to me. But there’s no time to fall apart. Because something is happening outside.
And all I want to do is help.
My palms sweat against the grip of the gun. The panic room is dim and quiet. The only light is a single recessed fixture overhead. Ivy sits on the floor with Mila and Alex, all of them huddled under a weighted blanket. Melanie whispers something calm and clinical, her voice steady but her eyes darting toward the reinforced door every few seconds. We can’t hear much outside that heavy door.
I pace at first.
Then, I try to read to them again. My voice shakes. Ivy keeps glancing up at me, trying to smile, trying to be brave. The other two keep giving wary glances at each other, at the door.
I hate this. Victor is out there. Roman and Nik too.
And whoever broke into this compound—whoever dared to storm our home—they want something. Maybe Ivy. Maybe revenge. Maybe just blood.
But they won’t get it.
Melanie’s voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. “You’re no good to her in here if your heart’s halfway outside that door.”
