Part 6

"That his father was selfish, frightened, and cruel to his mother."

The words hurt to say.

But they were true.

"Tell him I didn't know about him, and that when I found out, I wanted to be better."

Claire wiped her eyes.

"Wanting to change isn't the same as changing."

"I know."

She looked at the shop window.

"If you truly want to be involved, this has to happen slowly."

I nodded immediately.

"Whatever you think is best."

"And there will be boundaries."

"Of course."

"You cannot arrive whenever you want, interfere with our routines, or make promises you might not keep."

"I won't."

She hesitated.

"Then start by respecting what I've asked today."

I looked at the children one final time.

Then I stepped backward.

"I'll leave."

Claire appeared surprised.

I understood why.

The man she had married would have argued until he got what he wanted.

But I couldn't afford to remain that man.

Before returning to my car, I asked one final question.

"Are they happy?"

Claire glanced through the window.

"Yes."

I nodded.

"Then you've given them something I never knew how to give you."

I walked away before she could see me cry.

That evening, I returned to my mansion and sat alone in the nursery Claire had once wanted to create.

The room had remained empty throughout our marriage.

Now, knowing that I had two children somewhere across the city, its emptiness felt unbearable.

I opened my laptop and began searching for information about raising toddlers.

The results overwhelmed me.

Sleep schedules.

Food allergies.

Language development.

Emotional attachment.

I had spent years studying investment markets, yet I knew almost nothing about what a two-year-old needed.

For the first time, I understood that becoming a father wasn't a business transaction.

It was a responsibility that required learning, patience, and daily effort.

The next morning, I contacted a family counselor.

I explained my circumstances without attempting to make myself look better.

The counselor listened carefully.

Then she asked a question that stayed with me.

"Mr. Moretti, do you want a relationship with your children because you love them, or because discovering them has made you feel guilty?"

I stared at my hands.

"Both, probably."

"Then you'll need to separate those feelings."

I looked up.

"How?"

"By remembering that your guilt belongs to you, but your children's emotional well-being must come first."

I carried those words into the following weeks.

I didn't send expensive gifts.

I didn't arrive unannounced.

I didn't ask Daniel to monitor Claire's life.

Instead, I sent her one message.

"I understand that I have no right to demand a place in their lives, but if you're willing, I would appreciate the chance to learn how to become someone they can trust."

She didn't respond immediately.

When her reply arrived two days later, I read it several times.

"We can meet at the park on Saturday for thirty minutes."

I had negotiated deals worth billions.

Nothing had ever made me as nervous as that message.

On Saturday morning, I arrived early at a small park near Lincoln Park.

I wore jeans and a simple sweater.

No bodyguards.

No chauffeur standing nearby.

No expensive gifts.

Claire arrived holding Noah's hand while Lily walked beside her clutching her stuffed rabbit.

The moment I saw them, my heart began racing.

Noah stopped several feet away.

"Mommy, it's the flower shop man."

Claire nodded.

"Yes, sweetheart."

I crouched so I wouldn't tower over him.

"Hello, Noah."

He looked at me suspiciously.

"How do you know my name?"

I glanced at Claire.

She nodded gently.

"Your mommy told me."

He considered that answer.

Then he pointed toward my shoes.

"Those are big."

I laughed unexpectedly.

"They are."

Lily stepped closer.

"Do you like rabbits?"

I looked at the toy in her arms.

"Very much."

She studied me.

"His name is Button."

"That's a wonderful name."

She smiled.

For thirty minutes, we walked along the path, watched ducks near the pond, and talked about things I had never imagined would matter so much.

Noah told me he liked trucks.

Lily explained that Button was afraid of thunderstorms.

I listened to every word.

When our time ended, I felt an almost unbearable urge to ask for another hour.

Instead, I stood.

"Thank you for spending time with me."

Noah waved.

"Bye, flower shop man."

I smiled.

"Goodbye, Noah."

Claire watched me quietly.

Then she said something I hadn't expected.

"You did well today."

I looked at her.

"Thank you."

Over the following months, our meetings gradually became more regular.

Claire allowed me to accompany them to the park, help carry groceries, and eventually visit the flower shop for short periods.

Noah began calling me Alex.

Lily sometimes asked whether I was coming to see Button.

Each small moment felt like a gift I hadn't earned.

But rebuilding trust wasn't easy.

One afternoon, Noah became upset when I arrived fifteen minutes late because of an unexpected business call.

He stood beside Claire with tears in his eyes.

"You weren't coming."

I crouched in front of him.

"I'm sorry."

He looked away.

"You said you would."

Those words hurt more than he could understand.

"You're right."

I put my phone away.

"I should have been here when I promised."

Afterward, I began reorganizing my business responsibilities.

I delegated meetings.

I reduced travel.

I stopped treating every interruption as an emergency.

For years, I had believed my empire couldn't survive without my constant attention.

It turned out that assumption had been another excuse.

Months passed.

Then, one rainy afternoon, Claire invited me to dinner.

It was the first time I had entered her home.

The apartment was modest, warm, and filled with photographs.

Children's drawings covered the refrigerator.

Small shoes stood beside the front door.

Fresh flowers rested in a glass vase.

I stood in the living room, overwhelmed by the life she had created.

During dinner, Noah spilled juice across the table.

I reached for a towel.

Before Claire could react, I was already cleaning it.

Noah looked frightened.

"Sorry."

I shook my head.

"Accidents happen."

Claire watched me with an expression I couldn't read.

Later, after the children were asleep, we stood in the kitchen.

"I've been thinking about what happens next," she said.

My stomach tightened.

"So have I."

She folded her arms.

"The children are getting attached to you."

I nodded.

"And that scares me."

"I understand."