"My baby, come here," Alina whispered, her voice thick with a mixture of joy and disbelief. She reached out, and the moment Liam's weight settled into her arms, she felt a piece of her soul click back into place.
He was heavier—significantly so. In the six months she had been gone, he had stretched out, his toddler roundness giving way to the lankier frame of a young boy. "I missed you so much, Liam," she murmured into his hair, which still smelled of the expensive, gentle cedarwood soap Damian used.
She squeezed him, using every ounce of her strength to hold back the tears that threatened to blur her vision. She couldn't break down now; she needed to be his pillar.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker of movement. Lucas, looking pale and emotionally shredded after his confrontation with Abigail, stood up silently.
