Chapter 7 - CASSIAN ASKED FOR A DNA TEST BEFORE HE ASKED FOR ANYTHING ELSE
Three weeks after Evan’s funeral, Cassian asked Mara for a paternity test.
He hated asking.
Mara respected that he did.
They were sitting at Little Stone after closing.
Owen upstairs with Naomi’s husband, helping decorate cupcakes badly.
Cassian looked uncomfortable.
Rare.
Mara waited.
“I want something formal.”
She knew immediately.
“DNA.”
“Yes.”
Her expression remained neutral.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I do.”
“Then why?”
“Because belief and documentation are different.”
Mara stared.
Cassian continued.
“If Owen is legally my son, I need responsibility documented.”
“Medical history.”
“Support.”
“Future inheritance.”
“Parenting rights.”
He paused.
“Your protection too.”
Mara’s eyebrow rose.
“Careful.”
“I know.”
He corrected.
“So neither of us can rewrite reality later because we are angry.”
Better.
Mara nodded.
“Yes.”
The test came back 99.999 percent.
No surprise.
Cassian still stared at the page for several minutes.
Owen sat across from him eating cereal.
“What does it say?”
Cassian looked up.
“That I’m your biological father.”
Owen nodded.
“I knew that.”
“I did too.”
“Then why pay money for paper?”
Mara laughed.
Cassian smiled.
“Excellent question.”
The legal process followed.
No sudden custody war.
Cassian did not ask for fifty percent overnight.
He met with a child psychologist.
Mara did too.
Owen had known only his mother.
Moving too fast would satisfy adults.
Not the child.
So they built.
One afternoon every week.
Then dinner.
Then longer weekends with Mara present nearby.
Eventually Cassian’s home.
Except Cassian moved.
That surprised everyone.
He sold the enormous penthouse.
Not because Mara asked.
Because Owen hated it.
“Too quiet.”
Owen said after visiting once.
“And there are no kids.”
Cassian stared at the skyline he once considered proof he had won Chicago.
A month later, he bought a brownstone near Lincoln Park.
Smaller.
Still expensive.
But a backyard.
Three bedrooms.
A school nearby.
Owen approved because the basement could hold model trains.
Mara did not move in.
Important.
She rented an apartment ten minutes away.
Little Stone remained hers.
Cassian offered no money.
He paid child support according to legal agreements.
Not mysterious cash.
Not “take this because I can.”
Formal.
Transparent.
Mara’s attorney reviewed everything.
Cassian insisted.
Their romance did not restart immediately.
That frustrated him.
Good.
He had expected nothing.
Still wanted everything.
Mara knew.
One night after Owen fell asleep on Cassian’s couch, she said:
“You keep looking at me like you’re waiting.”
“I am.”
“For what?”
“You to decide whether there’s an us.”
Mara’s throat tightened.
“You could date.”
“I could.”
“You don’t.”
“No.”
“That’s your choice.”
“Yes.”
“Not mine.”
“I know.”
Good.
Then:
“I’m scared.”
Cassian’s face changed.
“Of me?”
“Some.”
He accepted it.
“Of myself more.”
“Why?”
“Because part of me wants to erase the five years.”
“Pretend the misunderstanding was the only problem.”
“It wasn’t.”
Cassian nodded.
“No.”
“You lied by omission.”
“Yes.”
“I ran instead of listening.”
“Yes.”
“You searched for me?”
Cassian hesitated.
“Publicly.”
“What does that mean?”
“I asked Naomi whether you were safe.”
“She said yes.”
“I monitored no private accounts.”
“Hired no investigator.”
“Didn’t trace your phone.”
Mara stared.
“Why?”
“You said don’t follow.”
Her eyes filled.
“That simple?”
“No.”
Cassian laughed softly.
“It was excruciating.”
“But simple.”
Mara looked away.
Cassian continued.
“I wanted to find you every day.”
“Then I remembered if I ignored the first clear boundary you ever gave me, I would prove every fear correct.”
Silence.
That mattered more than Mara wanted.
She asked:
“Did you ever think I was dead?”
“Yes.”
His voice broke.
“Naomi sent one message after Owen was born.”
Mara turned sharply.
“What?”
“She told me you were alive.”
“Nothing else.”
“When?”
“About nine months after you left.”
Mara’s eyes filled.
Naomi had never told her.
Cassian smiled sadly.
“I did not know there was a baby.”
“She only said: Mara is safe. Stop asking.”
“And you did?”
“Yes.”
Mara laughed through tears.
“You were always terrible at stopping.”
“I improved.”
They sat quietly.
Then Mara said:
“Kiss me.”
Cassian went still.
“What?”
“You heard.”
He searched her face.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He moved slowly.
Five years disappeared for half a second.
Then returned.
Older.
Changed.
The kiss was not reunion.
It was information.
Mara still loved him.
That was not enough.
But it was something.
When they separated, Cassian rested his forehead against hers.
“Can I ask one thing?”
“Yes.”
“Dinner.”
She laughed.
“Very ambitious.”
“Friday.”
“Yes.”
They began dating again.
Actually dating.
Not slipping back.
No key to Mara’s apartment for six months.
Cassian asked once.
Mara said no.
He answered:
“Okay.”
Then never raised it until she offered later.
He told her where he went.
Who he met when old Vale business surfaced.
No “you’re safer not knowing.”
Mara told him when fear made her want to run instead of disappearing.
They fought.
Real fights.
Once over Owen’s school.
Cassian wanted private security after a threat unrelated to Harlan.
Mara said no.
Cassian pushed.
She stood.
“I’m going home.”
Old Cassian would have blocked the argument from ending.
New Cassian said:
“Okay.”
Two hours later he texted:
I still disagree. We can talk tomorrow.
Mara stared at that message for a long time.
Safety is sometimes boring.
That was why it worked.
The most important change came when Cassian updated his estate plan.
He told Mara after.
Not before.
Because it did not require her consent.
“Owen is included equally with Alessia’s children in legitimate assets.”
Mara frowned.
“He doesn’t need a criminal kingdom.”
“He won’t get one.”
“What happens to the remaining old structures?”
“Dissolved where possible.”
“Transferred.”
“Some handed to authorities.”
“Some men are unhappy.”
“Are we safe?”
“I believe so.”
Mara stared.
“Believe?”
“I can never promise absolute safety.”
Good.
No lie.
Then:
“I can promise I will tell you when risk changes.”
Mara nodded.
“That I believe.”
Cassian looked toward Owen building a Lego tower.
“I lost five years.”
His voice softened.
“I keep wanting to compensate.”
“With money?”
“Time.”
“Trips.”
“Everything.”
Mara touched his hand.
“You can’t repay childhood.”
“I know.”
“You can be here for the next part.”
Cassian’s eyes filled.
That sentence became his discipline.
Not lost years.
Next part.
School concerts.
Dentist.
A terrible science project involving baking soda.
Owen’s first baseball game.
He hated baseball.
Cassian pretended not to be disappointed.
Mara caught him researching soccer leagues that night.
He looked guilty.
She laughed.
The boy had Cassian’s eyes.
His silence.
His room-reading habit.
But he also had Mara’s stubbornness.
Evan’s humor.
His own strange obsession with sharks.
No one person owned him.
Cassian began understanding fatherhood the same way he learned love.
Not inheritance.
May you like
Not possession.
Presence.
