THE BILLIONAIRE CEO COMFORTED A CRYING TODDLER ON A PLANE—THEN THE CHILD LOOKED UP WITH HIS EYES AND SAID, “ARE YOU MY DADDY?”

The wheels of the Airbus A320 touched down on the tarmac at Logan International Airport with a heavy thump and a roar of reverse thrusters.

Outside the window, Boston was buried under a cold November drizzle, grey mist hanging low over the Atlantic runway.

Oliver had fallen asleep forty minutes prior, exhausted from his tears and the excitement of the flight. He was curled up in Garrett’s arms, his small head resting heavily against Garrett’s shoulder, one small hand still loosely gripping the lapel of Garrett’s jacket.

Garrett hadn't moved an inch for forty minutes. His left arm was completely numb, but he refused to shift his weight for fear of waking his son.

Paige gathered their small carry-on bags from the overhead compartment. Her movements were slow, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

She looked at Garrett holding Oliver. For three years, she had envisioned this moment—how she would confront Garrett, how she would tell him about Oliver, or whether she would keep the secret forever to protect her quiet, modest life in Oregon. She had imagined Garrett being angry, defensive, demands for DNA tests, lawyers, corporate press releases.

She had never imagined him crying in a First Class seat, holding their son like a priceless miracle.

"Garrett," Paige said softly, stepping closer to his seat. "We’re at the gate. You need to let me take him so you can get your laptop."

Garrett looked up, his face pale but serene. "I don't care about the laptop. Margot can buy a new one."

"Garrett, be practical," Paige sighed, a tiny flicker of her old exasperated tone returning. "You have a life here. You have meetings. You have the acquisition."

"The acquisition can wait," Garrett said firmly. He carefully stood up, lifting the thirty-pound toddler into his arms with ease, supporting Oliver’s back with his right hand. "Where are you staying?"

Paige hesitated. "At a hotel near the waterfront. I’m in town for an interview."

Garrett’s eyebrows pulled together into that stubborn, sharp crease. "An interview? For what?"

"A clinical research position at Massachusetts General," Paige said, looking down at her worn leather purse. "It’s a modest salary, but it comes with hospital housing. I needed to move closer to my sister in Connecticut."

Garrett felt a sharp pang in his chest. A clinical research position. Paige had been the head of biomedical ethics at his multi-billion-dollar firm before he ruined her career. She was overqualified by a decade for an entry-level hospital role.

"Cancel the interview," Garrett said flatly.

Paige’s head snapped up, her brown eyes flashing with sudden heat. "Excuse me?"

"You are not staying in some cheap waterfront hotel, and you are not taking a entry-level job at Mass General," Garrett said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "My driver is waiting downstairs at private arrival. You and Oliver are coming to the Beacon Hill residence."

"Garrett, no!" Paige hissed, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the sleeping boy. "We are not moving into your house! I told you, I am not going to let you steamroll my life with your money!"

"It’s not my house, Paige," Garrett said softly, his eyes locking onto hers with a sincerity that made her breath catch. "It’s our house. The Beacon Hill estate was bought three years ago. I put it in a trust under your name the month after you left. I never sold it. It’s been waiting for you."

Paige stared at him, her mouth opening slightly in complete disbelief. "You... you bought a house in my name after I left?"

"I bought it because I hoped that one day, by some miracle, I would find you and bring you home," Garrett whispered. "It’s fully staffed, it’s secure, and it has a nursery that was built two years ago when I couldn't stop dreaming about what might have been."

Paige pressed her back against the cabin bulkhead, her hands trembling. "Garrett... this is too fast. I can't just... I have a life in Portland. I have a lease."

"I will buy out the lease," Garrett said, taking a step toward her, holding Oliver close. "Paige, look at me. I am not asking you to marry me today. I am not asking you to pretend the last four years didn't happen. I am asking you to let me be a father to my son. I am asking you to let me protect you while we figure this out."

Before Paige could answer, the curtain swung open.

Garrett’s personal assistant, Margot—a sharp, thirty-something woman in a charcoal grey power suit holding two encrypted tablets—stepped into First Class, looking frantic.

"Mr. Brennan!" Margot gasped, her eyes wide behind her glasses. "Thank God! I’ve been trying to reach your phone for two hours! The board at Brennan Health has called an emergency meeting at the headquarters! Your uncle Julian—"

Margot stopped mid-sentence.

Her jaw dropped. Her eyes darted from Garrett, to the toddler fast asleep on his shoulder, and finally to Paige standing beside him.

"Ms... Ms. Henley?" Margot whispered, looking like she had just seen a ghost. "Oh my God. Is that...?"

Garrett turned a cold, commanding glare toward his assistant. "Margot."

"Yes, Mr. Brennan?" she squeaked, instantly straightening her spine.

"Cancel my schedule for the next forty-eight hours," Garrett commanded.

Margot blinked frantically. "Sir, the board meeting—Julian is attempting to call a vote of no confidence regarding the New England acquisition! He claims you’ve gone rogue!"

"Let him call a vote," Garrett said coldly, his hazel eyes flashing with a dangerous, dark promise. "Tell Julian that if he steps foot near my office before Thursday, I will release the forensic audit files from the 2022 Chicago leak directly to the Department of Justice."

Margot gasped softly. "You... you have the audit files?"

"I’ve had them for three years," Garrett said smoothly. "I was just waiting for a reason to ruin him completely. Now I have one."

Garrett looked back at Paige, his expression softening into pure warmth.

"Let’s go home, Paige," Garrett said gently.

Paige looked at Margot, who was looking at Paige with an expression of overwhelming sympathy and relief, then looked down at Oliver sleeping peacefully against Garrett’s chest.