ROOSEVELT’S POV

“Mommy, I want him to be my daddy.”

Her words echoed, freezing everything around us.

I stopped breathing. My heart pounded against my ribs so fiercely I thought it might break free. I looked down at my four-year-old daughter, paralyzed by the honesty of her wish.

Behind us, I heard a sharp intake of breath.

I slowly turned my head.

Zyran remained on his knees, his hands covered his mouth, his dark eyes were wide and filling with tears as he stared at Lorna as if she had just given him the sun and the moon.

His chest heaved with a silent sob.

He heard her, he heard...