Gannon’s POV

The night wind was cooler than usual as I stood beneath the old archway near the edge of the estate. The moon hung low, its silver light casting long shadows across the stone tiles, where my boots felt heavier than they ever had before.

I’d been wrong.

Not about protecting my daughter.

But about forgetting she wasn’t just mine anymore.

She was hers too. Herself. And she was already choosing who she wanted to be.

When I turned, Lola was already there — standing with her arms folded, her chin slightly tilted up, the way her mother did when she had something to say but wanted me to...