Chapter 3 - THE CHILD DOMINIC ONCE CALLED HIS FUTURE
Dominic stayed until sunrise.
He did not plan to.
I could tell.
At 1:00 a.m., he still wore his coat.
At two, the coat was on the back of a chair.
By three, he had made coffee.
Bad coffee.
Nora took one sip and poured it out in front of him.
“You own stock in companies that send machines to space.”
Dominic stared.
“I do not own enough to control them.”
“That is somehow worse.”
He almost smiled.
Grace went back to bed around one-thirty.
Julian fell asleep on the breakfast-room bench an hour later.
Dominic stood near the doorway watching him.
Not touching.
Not approaching.
Just watching.
Brooke sat with me in the library.
Her shoulders had finally relaxed.
A little.
“He hates me.”
I looked toward Dominic.
“He has reasons.”
“I know.”
“Do you hate him?”
She considered.
“Sometimes.”
Fair.
Dominic entered.
“I don't hate you.”
Brooke looked up.
“Then what?”
He remained standing.
“I don't trust you.”
That sounded familiar.
Brooke flinched.
“Also fair.”
Dominic looked at me.
“Grace asleep?”
“Yes.”
Then back to Brooke.
“Tell me everything about Caleb.”
She did.
No dramatic villain.
That made the situation harder.
Caleb Sterling had been thirty-two when he slept with Brooke.
Married.
Unhappy, according to him.
Separated, according to him.
Neither turned out to be entirely true.
Brooke knew he was married.
That mattered.
She did not pretend otherwise.
Their relationship overlapped with Dominic.
That mattered too.
Julian might have been conceived within days of the period when Brooke began sleeping with Dominic.
When she learned she was pregnant, Caleb told her he wanted no involvement.
Dominic, meanwhile, believed the baby was his.
Brooke chose the more convenient father.
Not noble.
Not complicated enough to excuse it.
Convenient.
Dominic listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he asked:
“Did Caleb know about the paternity test?”
“Yes.”
“And still stayed away?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He had divorced by then.”
“But?”
Brooke looked embarrassed.
“He said he wasn't ready for a custody scandal.”
Dominic laughed once.
Ugly.
“Ready.”
“Yes.”
“Everyone is always not ready when the difficult thing is a child.”
The sentence landed.
He knew.
Brooke knew he knew.
I watched him confront himself through another man.
“Why now besides money?” Dominic asked.
“His father.”
“I heard.”
“No.”
Brooke shook her head.
“You don't understand Jonathan Sterling.”
“Explain.”
“He has three granddaughters.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened immediately.
Of course.
Three granddaughters.
And suddenly Julian appeared.
A boy.
A surname.
A possible heir.
The pattern was so familiar it almost felt scripted.
Brooke continued.
“Jonathan has been obsessed with Caleb having a son since college.”
“He knows Julian is biologically his grandson.”
“Yes.”
“Confirmed?”
“Yes.”
Dominic looked toward the hallway.
“Does Julian know Caleb is his father?”
Brooke hesitated.
“Yes.”
“How did you tell him?”
“That he has a biological daddy named Caleb.”
“Biological?”
“I used a book.”
Dominic looked confused.
I almost smiled.
“Children's books,” I said.
“Some families use them to explain adoption, donors, stepfamilies.”
“Oh.”
He looked strangely humbled by the existence of a world where adults prepared before speaking to children.
“Does Julian call Caleb Dad?”
“No.”
“What does he call him?”
“Caleb.”
Dominic nodded.
Then:
“What did Olivia tell him?”
Brooke looked nervous.
Good.
“She said the Vances were his first family.”
Dominic’s entire expression changed.
“She said what?”
“She told him that sometimes tests make mistakes in families.”
I stood.
“What?”
Brooke lifted both hands.
“I told her to stop.”
Dominic went white.
“She told a child the paternity test might be wrong?”
“Not directly.”
“Brooke.”
“She said love matters more than tests.”
That sentence alone was fine.
The context poisoned it.
Dominic reached for his phone.
I stopped him.
“Not at four in the morning.”
“She has been telling him he belongs to my family.”
“Yes.”
“She didn't have the right.”
“No.”
He looked furious.
Then I said:
“Neither did you when you announced he was your heir before he was born.”
That stopped him.
Silence.
Brooke looked down.
Dominic stared at me.
I continued.
“Olivia learned from somewhere.”
His anger changed direction.
Inward.
Good.
“That doesn't excuse what she's doing.”
“No.”
“But it matters.”
He sat.
“I created that.”
“Yes.”
For a long time, nobody spoke.
Then Julian began crying.
Not screaming.
A sleepy, frightened sound from the breakfast room.
Brooke immediately stood.
Dominic did too.
They reached him at the same time.
Julian sat upright.
Tears.
“Mommy.”
Brooke gathered him.
“What happened?”
“Bad dream.”
“You’re okay.”
“I couldn't find you.”
“I’m here.”
Dominic stood two feet away.
Julian noticed.
“Uncle Dominic.”
Dominic froze.
“Yes?”
“My train.”
“What train?”
“The wooden one.”
Brooke’s face changed.
Dominic looked at her.
She whispered:
“You bought it.”
“I did?”
“The day after he was born.”
Dominic stared.
I remembered the photograph.
The birth announcement.
My son. My legacy. My future.
Apparently beneath the public spectacle there had been a wooden train.
Brooke said:
“Your assistant brought it.”
“Before the test?”
“Yes.”
Julian wiped his face.
“It broke.”
Dominic looked toward him.
“What broke?”
“Wheel.”
Brooke smiled faintly.
“He has slept with that train beside his bed for two years.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
“Why?”
Julian answered.
“Grandma says you gave it because you thought I was special.”
Everything inside the room became still.
Dominic crouched again.
Not too close.
“Julian.”
The boy looked at him.
“You were special.”
Julian frowned.
“Was?”
Dominic closed his eyes for half a second.
Wrong tense.
He corrected.
“You are special.”
“Even if you're not my dad?”
“Yes.”
Julian considered.
“Okay.”
Children accepted truths adults spent years resisting.
Dominic looked at Brooke.
“Bring me the train.”
“What?”
“I'll fix it.”
She stared.
“You will?”
“Yes.”
That was how it started.
Not with custody.
Not with declarations.
A wheel.
Three days later, Brooke brought the train.
Dominic came to my house because I did not yet allow unsupervised contact between him and Julian.
That felt absurd.
He had no legal relationship.
But Brooke trusted neither Olivia nor the Sterlings.
And Dominic had become part of the crisis.
Grace sat beside him at the kitchen island.
Julian sat across.
Dominic had tools spread everywhere.
Nora walked in.
“Is this a workshop?”
“No.”
“You put a drill on marble.”
“I placed a mat.”
She inspected.
“Acceptable.”
Dominic spent forty minutes repairing one wooden wheel.
It should have taken ten.
Grace kept giving instructions.
“You need glue.”
“I know.”
“Not too much.”
“I know.”
“You used too much.”
Dominic stared.
“Do you want to do it?”
“No.”
“Then let me work.”
Julian giggled.
The sound stopped Dominic.
He looked up.
Julian immediately became shy.
Dominic smiled.
Small.
Real.
The wheel went back on.
Dominic slid the train across the island.
Julian caught it.
His face lit.
“You fixed it.”
“Yes.”
“You're good.”
“I have some transferable skills.”
Grace frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Daddy can fix toys.”
“Okay.”
She looked at Julian.
“My daddy fixed my dollhouse too.”
There it was.
My daddy.
Julian’s smile changed.
Not jealousy exactly.
Awareness.
Dominic saw it.
He did not overcorrect.
Did not say I can be yours too.
Thank God.
Instead he asked:
“Does the wheel roll?”
Julian tested it.
“Yes.”
“Then successful operation.”
Julian ran the train across the counter.
Grace added a toy rabbit as passenger.
The children forgot us.
Brooke stood near the sink.
She watched Dominic.
“You would have been good with him.”
Dominic stiffened.
“That isn't helpful.”
“I know.”
She looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“All of it.”
He laughed without humor.
“That's too large a category.”
“The paternity lie.”
“Start there.”
Brooke nodded.
“I wanted the easier life.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You thought I was easier than Caleb?”
“You were richer.”
There was something almost admirable about that honesty.
“Good to know.”
“You were unmarried.”
“I was married.”
Brooke closed her eyes.
“Right.”
Dominic's face hardened.
“You erased Evelyn so completely you can still forget that.”
Brooke looked at me.
Shame.
I did not rescue her.
Dominic continued.
“You did to Evelyn what Caleb did to you.”
Brooke stared.
“What?”
“You decided the inconvenient person did not count.”
Silence.
She looked toward Julian.
“I know.”
Maybe she did.
Maybe learning happened in pieces.
Then the front door opened hard enough to echo.
Olivia’s voice:
“Dominic?”
My body went cold.
Nora muttered:
“Oh, wonderful.”
Dominic stood.
“How did she get through the gate?”
I looked at security monitor.
She was listed as approved for Grace visits on specific days.
Apparently somebody had made a mistake.
Olivia entered the kitchen.
She saw me.
Dominic.
Brooke.
Then Julian.
Her entire face transformed.
“My baby.”
Julian smiled.
“Grandma!”
He ran toward her.
Olivia dropped to her knees and hugged him.
Dominic stared.
Not anger yet.
Something worse.
Realization.
Olivia kissed Julian’s hair.
Then looked up.
“What are you doing here?”
Dominic’s voice was very quiet.
“We were about to ask you the same thing.”
She stood slowly.
Julian held her hand.
Dominic looked down at their joined fingers.
“You told him the Vances were his first family.”
Olivia’s face changed.
“Dominic.”
“You told him tests don't decide love.”
“They don't.”
“That is not the issue.”
Julian looked between them.
Brooke immediately moved closer.
Olivia lifted her chin.
“He was my grandson before a piece of paper told me otherwise.”
Dominic’s expression went hard.
“And Grace was your granddaughter before a baby boy distracted you.”
Silence.
Olivia went white.
Grace looked up from her toy.
I felt dread.
Dominic realized too late.
Grace had heard.
She looked at Olivia.
Then Dominic.
“What does that mean?”
No one answered fast enough.
Grace’s little face tightened.
She looked at her father.
“Daddy?”
Dominic crouched.
“Grace.”
Her eyes filled.
“You only like me because Julian isn't yours?”
May you like
The question struck every adult in the room.
And for the first time, Dominic had no one to blame for the cruelty except the man he used to be.
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