Dante Moretti arrived at the Bennett house carrying a toolbox.

Elena stared at it.

“What is that?”

“A toolbox.”

“I can see that.”

“You asked me to fix the airplane.”

“I did not.”

“Leo did.”

Behind Elena, small footsteps raced across the hallway.

“You brought it?”

Leo appeared wearing dinosaur pajamas even though it was nearly ten in the morning.

Dante held up the repaired airplane.

Leo gasped.

“You fixed it!”

“I said I would.”

Leo grabbed it and inspected the wing.

Elena looked at Dante.

“You bought a new one.”

“No.”

“You absolutely bought a new one.”

“I fixed it.”

She narrowed her eyes.

Dante opened the toolbox.

Inside were three types of adhesive, miniature clamps, a precision screwdriver set, and enough equipment to repair an actual aircraft.

Elena stared.

“You bought all of that to fix a ten-dollar toy?”

Dante glanced at Leo.

“It was important.”

Something inconvenient moved in her chest.

She stepped aside.

“Two hours.”

Dante looked at her.

“What?”

“You can stay for two hours.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“With him?”

“That’s usually what visitation means.”

His expression hardened at the word.

She refused to soften it.

“You’ve known him for three days, Dante.”

“He’s known me for three days.”

“That’s exactly my point.”

Dante nodded once.

“No security inside.”

“Nico stays outside.”

“No business calls.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to her.

Elena blinked.

“You don’t have to give it to me.”

“You said no calls.”

“I expected you to argue.”

“I’m learning.”

She hated how effective that answer was.

Leo tugged Dante’s sleeve.

“Do you know dinosaurs?”

Dante looked down.

“Some.”

“All of them?”

“No.”

“I do.”

“I believe you.”

Ten minutes later, Elena discovered something she had never expected to see.

Dante Moretti sat cross-legged on the living room rug.

His expensive black trousers were covered in cracker crumbs.

Leo had arranged twelve plastic dinosaurs between them and was explaining, with great authority, which ones could defeat the others.

“This one is strongest.”

“Tyrannosaurus?”

“No.”

Dante studied the green dinosaur.

“Triceratops?”

“No.”

“What is it?”

Leo looked offended.

“Mom!”

Elena was sitting at the dining table pretending to read estate documents.

“Don’t ask me. I failed the dinosaur exam last week.”

Leo sighed dramatically.

“Ankylosaurus.”

Dante nodded solemnly.

“Obviously.”

Elena covered a smile.

For the next hour, Dante allowed a three-year-old to order him around.

He built a block garage.

Built it again after Leo destroyed it.

Accepted a plastic cup of imaginary coffee.

“Sugar?” Leo asked.

“No.”

Leo poured invisible sugar into it anyway.

Dante drank.

Elena watched.

This was dangerous.

Not because Dante was a Moretti.

Not because of Vincent.

Because this version of him was too easy to want.

The Dante she remembered had belonged to midnight.

Private elevators.

Locked penthouses.

Quiet dinners where no one could photograph them.

This man was sitting in sunlight with their son.

There was nowhere for Elena to hide from that.

Leo suddenly climbed onto the couch.

“Dad, look.”

Silence.

Elena’s head snapped up.

Dante froze.

Leo did not notice.

He held the airplane above his head.

“It flies now.”

Dante stared at him.

Elena watched his throat move.

“Yes,” he managed.

“It does.”

Leo jumped down.

He ran around the room making engine noises.

Dante looked at Elena.

She said nothing.

Neither did he.

But something had changed.

Twenty minutes later, Leo became quieter.

He sat beside Dante on the couch.

“Where do you live?”

“Not far.”

“Here?”

“In Chicago.”

“Mommy says we live in Zurich.”

“You do.”

“Do you have a room?”

Dante almost laughed.

“Yes.”

“Do you have toys?”

“No.”

Leo looked deeply concerned.

“We can buy you some.”

Elena looked away.

Dante rubbed a hand over his mouth.

“That would be helpful.”

Leo leaned against him.

It happened naturally.

Without permission.

Without understanding what it meant.

Dante went completely still.

Then, very carefully, he put one arm around his son.

Elena felt tears threaten.

She hated herself for them.

Leo looked up.

“Why didn’t you come see me before?”

Dante’s arm tightened.

There it was.

The question Elena had known would come eventually.

She had simply hoped eventually meant years.

Dante looked at her.

Elena gave him no rescue.

He looked back at Leo.

“Because I didn’t know where you were.”

Leo frowned.

“Mommy knew.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you ask Mommy?”

Dante glanced at Elena again.

“I didn’t know she had you.”

Leo processed this.

“You didn’t know me?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Dante’s voice softened.

“Because grown-ups sometimes make very complicated mistakes.”

“Mommy made a mistake?”

Elena’s stomach tightened.

Dante answered immediately.

“No.”

She looked at him.

“I did.”

Leo accepted this with the merciless simplicity of a child.

“Was it a bad mistake?”

“Yes.”

“Did you say sorry?”

Dante looked directly at Elena.

“Not well enough.”

Leo nodded.

“You have to say it good.”

A laugh escaped Elena before she could stop it.

Dante smiled.

For one brief moment, the room felt normal.

Then Leo climbed off the couch and retrieved two toy cars.

“Are you coming with us?”

Dante took one.

“Where?”

“Home.”

“You are home.”

“No. Zurich.”

The smile disappeared from Dante’s face.

Leo pushed a car across his knee.

“When Mommy finishes Grandpa stuff, we go home.”

Dante’s eyes found Elena.

“When?”

She closed the folder.

“Monday.”

It was Saturday.

Dante stared at her.

“You’re leaving in two days?”

“That was always the plan.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t know I was required to.”

“Elena.”

“Not in front of him.”

Dante looked down at Leo.

His face changed instantly.

He nodded.

“Okay.”

The rest of the visit remained calm.

When the two hours ended, Dante stood.

Leo followed him to the door.

“Tomorrow?”

Dante looked at Elena.

She hesitated.

Leo looked at her too.

Two identical gray-eyed stares.

Unfair.

“Tomorrow,” she said.

Leo smiled.

Dante crouched.

“Tomorrow.”

Leo hugged him.

Dante’s eyes closed.

Only for a second.

Then he stood and walked outside.

Elena followed him onto the porch.

The door closed behind them.

“You’re taking him to Switzerland.”

“Yes.”

“You were going to leave without discussing it with me?”

“There was nothing to discuss before Wednesday.”

“There is now.”

Her defenses rose.

“Do not start.”

“I’m his father.”

“And I have been his mother every day of his life.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t behave as if three days give you equal authority over the life I built for him.”

Dante’s face tightened.

“I’m not asking you to erase Zurich.”

“What are you asking?”

“I don’t know yet.”

That surprised her.

He looked through the window.

Leo was pressing his airplane against the glass.

Dante lifted one hand.

Leo waved.

“I lost three years,” Dante said quietly. “I’m trying not to lose the next three.”

Elena’s anger softened despite herself.

Then Dante’s phone rang from inside.

She had forgotten she still had it.

She retrieved it.

The screen showed one name.

VICTORIA.

Elena handed it to him.

Dante answered.

“What?”

He listened.

His expression changed.

“When?”

Another pause.

“Are you sure?”

Elena watched him.

Dante ended the call.

“What happened?”

He looked at her.

“Victoria found something in your father’s safe.”

“What?”

“A second copy of the marriage agreement.”

Elena’s pulse jumped.

“So?”

“This one isn’t redacted.”

She stopped breathing.

Dante put the phone into his pocket.

“And she says you need to see whose name was on the original contract.”