He pulled his hands away, his face pale and wet with tears.

“I missed four years, Emma,” he said, his voice filled with a desperate agony. “Four years of their lives. Their first steps. Their first words.”

“Yes,” I said, standing up. “You missed all of it.”

“I want to make it up to them,” he said, standing up and taking a step toward me. “I can give them everything. I’ll buy a house near you. I’ll set up trust funds. They will never want for anything.”

“They don’t want for anything now,” I said, my voice hardening.

He looked at me, his eyes pleading.

“Please, Emma. Let me be their father.”

Before I could answer, a sharp buzz cut through the room.

Blake’s phone, sitting on the small counter, vibrated against the metal surface.

The screen lit up with an incoming call.

The name on the screen made my blood run cold.

*Helena Harrington.*

The phone continued to buzz, slide-stepping across the counter.

Blake stared at it, his expression freezing.

The phone vibrated against the edge of the kitchen counter.

The screen flashed her name again.