Then my address.
Alex asked one final question.
“Is Sophie safe for the next thirty minutes?”
I looked toward the sofa.
“Yes.”
“Then don't open the door for anyone but me.”
The line disconnected.
No reassurance.
No rage.
No promises.
Just certainty.
Twenty-eight minutes later, someone knocked three times.
Slowly.
I looked through the peephole.
Alex Brooks stood in the hallway.
For a moment, ten years disappeared.
He was fifty-eight now.
Gray touched his temples.
Lines had deepened around his eyes.
He wore faded jeans, a black shirt, heavy boots, and the same dark leather jacket I remembered from years ago.
No security.
No driver.
No visible weapon.
Nothing dramatic.
Until he entered the living room and saw Sophie.
He stopped.
His entire body seemed to forget how to move.
“Dad?”
Sophie's voice cracked.
Alex crossed the room.
He dropped to his knees in front of her.
For the first time in my life, I watched fear appear on his face.
