Aiden Thorne's office was everything Ivy expected—cold, pristine, and intimidating. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the city skyline, but inside, it felt more like a boardroom than a place any child should ever be discussed.
She sat across from him in a chair that felt too expensive to touch. He didn't offer her coffee. He didn't ask how she was. He only stared—arms crossed, gaze unreadable—as if trying to decode the lies she'd lived with for five years.
"You said you didn't know who I was," Aiden said at last, breaking the silence. "Yet you managed to find me. When?"
"Two years ago," Ivy said quietly. "A friend helped me piece it together after I saw your face in a magazine."
Aiden's jaw tightened. "And you still didn't come to me."
"I was scared."
"Of me?"
"Of what your world would do to him."
His eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you think my world is, Ivy? A death sentence?"
She flinched. "I think it's loud. Ruthless. I think Leo would drown in it."
He stood and walked to the window, his back to her. The silence was heavy, stretched with things neither of them knew how to say.
"You raised him poor," he said eventually. "I've seen the apartment. No father. No financial support. He could've had everything."
Ivy bristled. "He has everything. Maybe not the kind of 'everything' you're used to, but he's happy. He's safe. He's loved."
"By a single mother who can't even afford to fix the front door," he snapped.
Her voice rose. "Don't talk to me about sacrifice like it's currency, Aiden. I've given up everything for him. I worked nights, cleaned hotel bathrooms, went without food. I made sure he never knew what it meant to go to bed scared."
His shoulders tensed. "He should've had me."
"He had me," Ivy said fiercely. "Every scraped knee, every nightmare, every birthday where I couldn't afford a cake—he had me. And I'd do it again."
Aiden turned, and for a heartbeat, his expression faltered. She saw something human flicker in his eyes before it vanished again beneath his armor.
"What is he like?" he asked, quietly now.
The question caught her off guard.
"He's... brilliant. He loves stars. Wants to be an astronaut or a baker, depending on the day. He hums when he concentrates, and he always makes sure his lunchbox has something to share, even if it's just one cookie. He's kind, Aiden. He has a good heart."
He was silent for a long moment.
"I missed everything," he murmured. "His first word, his first step..."
Ivy swallowed hard. "His first word was 'mama.' His second was 'stars.'"
Aiden sat back down slowly. "Does he know about me?"
"No." She folded her hands in her lap. "I told him his father was gone, that it wasn't his fault. I couldn't lie completely... but I couldn't tell him either."
"Then we start now."
Her head jerked up. "What?"
"I'm not going to be a ghost in my son's life," he said. "I want him to know me. To want to know me."
"You think you can just show up and be 'dad' because you have money?"
"I'm not trying to buy him."
"No?" Her voice cracked. "Then why did a lawyer show up at my door this morning with paperwork for shared custody?"
Aiden didn't flinch. "Because if I don't make legal moves now, I could lose my rights. You hid him from me. The courts won't ignore that."
"Don't you dare pretend this is about Leo. This is about control."
His eyes burned. "It's about fairness. You stole five years. You don't get to keep the rest."
The air between them chilled. Ivy stood abruptly.
"I won't let you bulldoze your way into his life and turn it upside down. He doesn't know you, Aiden. And until I believe you're ready for what it means to be a father—not just in title—you're not getting full access."
He leaned back, calm now. Too calm. "That's not your call anymore."
"I'll fight you if I have to," she warned. "I'll tell the court everything. About the night we met. About the years I tried and failed to find you."
"Then I suggest you prepare well," he said coolly. "Because I never lose."
Outside the office, Ivy blinked into the sunlight, her breath catching in her throat. Her knees felt weak, but she forced herself to keep walking, every step echoing with fear.
This wasn't just about her anymore.
This was war—and Leo was the prize.
That night, Ivy tucked her son into bed with trembling fingers.
"Mom?" he mumbled, already half-asleep.
"Yes, baby?"
"Who was that man at the café?"
She froze.
"No one, sweetheart. Just someone from Mommy's past."
Leo yawned. "He looked kinda sad."
Ivy pressed a kiss to his forehead, her heart aching. "Yeah," she whispered. "He was."