Chapter 2 - THURSDAY AT 3 PM
The rain had cleared by Thursday afternoon, leaving Manhattan bathed in a cold, brittle sunlight.
At precisely 2:58 PM, a sleek, black Lincoln Continental pulled up to the curb in front of the brick pre-war building on 14th Street. It was not Sebastian’s usual convoy of three Maybachs with blacked-out windows and an escort of security SUVs. It was a single car.
Sebastian stepped out alone.
He wore a simple charcoal crewneck sweater, black trousers, and an overcoat. No watch that cost more than a suburban home, no bespoke Italian suit that practically screamed his net worth. He looked like a man trying to fade into the background—a task made nearly impossible by his sharp, commanding height and striking features.
He looked up at the brick façade. The fire escapes were rusted in places; a flower box on the second floor held withered autumn marigolds. It was a normal, working-class building.
And for four years, his bloodline had been growing up here.
Sebastian walked up the stone steps, pushed open the heavy front door, and climbed the three flights of stairs. He didn't take an elevator. He wanted to feel every step. He wanted to feel the weight of every inch between his old life and this moment.
When he reached apartment 3B, he stopped.
He stood before the scratched wooden door for a full minute, listening. From inside, he could hear the faint, chaotic sounds of life: a toy crashing onto floorboards, a little girl laughing, and Nadia’s voice—warm, melodious, and clear—saying, "Eli, put the wooden spoon back in the kitchen!"
Sebastian’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He had stood before world leaders, faced down hostile board takeovers, and managed crises that could have crashed national markets. He had never felt terror like this.
He raised his hand and knocked. Three quiet, deliberate raps.
The sounds inside paused instantly.
A moment later, the sound of footsteps approached. The lock clicked once, twice. The door opened.
Nadia stood there.
She was wearing a cream-colored knit sweater and dark jeans. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, a few dark strands framing her delicate face. She looked tired, her dark eyes ringed with faint shadows, but her stance was rigid, protective.
"You're on time," she said coldly.
"I’m never late for things that matter," Sebastian replied softly.
Nadia searched his face for a long, agonizing second, looking for any sign of the arrogant billionaire she thought had abandoned her. She found none. All she saw in his eyes was a raw, aching hollow.
She stepped aside. "Come in. Take off your shoes."
Sebastian stepped into the narrow entryway. The apartment smelled of vanilla, cinnamon, and the crisp smell of laundry soap. It was small—the living room doubled as a playroom, packed with wooden blocks, picture books, and tiny stuffed animals—but it radiated a warmth that Sebastian’s thirty-million-dollar penthouse had never possessed.
In the center of the living room floor, three pairs of eyes were locked onto him.
Eli sat cross-legged, holding a wooden fire truck like a weapon. Jasper sat near the window, quietly flipping through a picture book, though his eyes were darting over the top of the pages. Maya was sitting on a plush rug, holding a ragdoll with one arm.
"Children," Nadia said, her voice softer now, taking a position near the kitchen counter where she could keep a line of sight between Sebastian and the kids. "This is Mr. Sebastian. He... he came to visit."
"He's the man from the bread restaurant," Maya announced happily, jumping up from the rug. She ran over to him without a shred of fear, stopping right at his knees. She looked up at him, tilting her head. "You take off your shoes like Mommy said."
Sebastian immediately unlaced his leather shoes and set them neatly by the door, stepping onto the wooden floor in his dark socks. He crouched down so he was at eye level with Maya.
"Hello, Maya," he said, his voice dropping to a gentle, velvet tone he didn't know he possessed.
"Did you bring the magic bread?" she asked, peeking behind his coat.
"I didn't," Sebastian confessed, feeling an unexpected tightness in his chest. "But next time, I can bring whatever bread you like best."
"Maya, come back here," Nadia commanded gently, her hand flexing against the countertop.
Maya scampered back to her mother's side, wrapping her small arms around Nadia's leg.
Sebastian slowly stood up. He turned his attention to Eli, who was still holding the fire truck, his jaw set in a stubborn line that Sebastian recognized immediately—it was the exact posture he assumed whenever he was challenged in a boardroom.
"You're Eli," Sebastian said.
"Why are you here?" Eli asked bluntly. "Mommy said people from the past don't come back unless they want something."
The sentence cut through Sebastian like a scalpel. He looked at Nadia, whose expression remained guarded, unreadable.
"I came because I wanted to see you," Sebastian said honestly to the four-year-old. "All of you. And because I made a very big mistake a long time ago, and I am trying to fix it."
"Can you fix broken fire trucks?" Eli demanded, holding out the wooden toy. "The wheel came off."
Sebastian didn't hesitate. He walked over, sat down cross-legged on the hardwood floor—ignoring the dust and the absurdity of a multi-billionaire sitting amongst plastic toys—and held out his hand.
"Let me see it," Sebastian said.
Eli hesitated, then slowly crawled forward and placed the wooden truck into Sebastian’s palm. The tiny wooden axle had snapped away from the plastic peg. Sebastian looked at it with serious, intense focus, as if he were reviewing a corporate merger contract.
"The peg is stripped," Sebastian diagnosed quietly. "We need a drop of strong glue and a small clamp to hold it while it sets. I can bring the tools tomorrow."
Eli stared at him, impressed despite himself. "You know about tools?"
"I know how to fix things that are broken," Sebastian said, his eyes rising from the toy to fix firmly onto Nadia's face. "If people let me."
Nadia felt a shiver run down her spine. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "One hour, Sebastian. You have forty-five minutes left."
"I know," he said softly.
For the next forty minutes, Sebastian did something he hadn't done in over a decade: he existed in the present moment. He didn't check his phone, which was buzzing furiously in his coat pocket with notifications from board members and global markets. He sat on the floor. He let Maya show him her doll family. He listened to Jasper explain the difference between a stegosaurus and a triceratops with terrifying precision. He helped Eli build a wooden block tower that reached up to his chest before it tumbled down in a cascade of giggles.
Nadia watched from the kitchen, her heart at war with itself.
She wanted to hate him. She had cultivated her hatred for five long years, using it as a shield to protect her heart from the agonizing memory of how much she had loved him. She had convinced herself that Sebastian was a creature of ice and money, incapable of real tenderness, a man who had chosen his family’s corporate legacy over her.
But watching him now—a man whose face was plastered across the Wall Street Journal, sitting on her worn rug with a red crayon behind his ear while Maya painted a crude green sun on his hand—the narrative she had constructed began to crack.
"Time's up," Nadia said, her voice tight as the clock on the wall struck four.
Sebastian paused mid-sentence. He looked at the clock, then at the three children who were now gathered around him. The pain on his face was so stark, so nakedly vulnerable, that Nadia had to look away.
He slowly stood up. He smoothed down his sweater, though it was covered in light lint and red crayon dust.
"Thank you," he said to the kids. "For letting me play."
"Are you coming back tomorrow?" Eli asked, looking up from the rebuilt block tower. "To fix my truck?"
Sebastian looked at Nadia, waiting for her permission. The authority was entirely hers, and he made sure she knew it.
Nadia swallowed hard. "Not tomorrow, Eli. Mr. Sebastian is very busy."
"I am never too busy for this," Sebastian said quietly, his eyes fixed on Nadia. "Whenever your mother says it’s okay, Eli. I’ll be ready."
He walked to the door, put on his coat and shoes, and stepped into the hallway. Nadia followed him, closing the apartment door behind her so they were alone in the dimly lit corridor.
"You played well," Nadia said, her voice cool, distant. "They liked you. But don't think this changes anything, Sebastian."
"Nadia," Sebastian said, taking a step toward her, though he kept a respectful distance. "We need to talk about five years ago. We need to talk about why you left."
"I left because you threw me away!" Nadia hissed, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper as tears suddenly prickled her eyes. "I left because your lawyers showed up at my door with proof of every lie your mother created! I left because I was terrified you would take my babies from me!"
Sebastian’s breath caught in his throat. "Nadia... I didn't send those lawyers. I didn't know about the babies. I didn't know anything."
Nadia let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh. "Oh, please. You were the CEO. You knew every dime that moved in that house. You expect me to believe your mother acted completely without your knowledge?"
"Yes!" Sebastian said, his voice cracking with emotion. "Because she knew if I found out, I would have burned her empire to the ground to protect you!"
Nadia stared at him, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. "Don't lie to me, Sebastian. Don't do that to me now."
Sebastian reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. He held it out to her, his hand steady, but his eyes pleading.
"I had my legal team do a full forensic audit over the last forty-eight hours," Sebastian said softly. "Inside this envelope is the proof. The bank transfers my mother forged. The security footage of her team entering your old apartment while I was in Tokyo. The fake divorce documents she fed to both of us. She manipulated us both, Nadia. She weaponized my trust and your fear to tear us apart."
Nadia looked at the white envelope as if it were a venomous snake. Her hand trembled as she reached out and took it.
"Why are you giving me this?" she whispered.
"Because I don't want your forgiveness based on empty words," Sebastian said, his voice thick with raw emotion. "I want you to know the truth. I didn't abandon you, Nadia. I was deceived. And I have spent five years living in a hell of my mother's making."
He took a step back toward the stairs.
May you like
"Read it," he said softly. "And when you're ready... let me fix the broken truck."
He turned and walked down the stairs, leaving Nadia standing alone in the cold hallway, holding the weight of five years of lies in her shaking hands.
