Page 78 of Second Chance Daddy

My heart’s pounding so hard I can barely breathe. This isn’t right to go without a goodbye. I know it isn’t. But fear’s a powerful motivator, and right now? I’m drowning in it.

I head down the hall to her room, and what I see stops me dead in the doorway.

There he is.

Six feet of impossible, unreadable man, stretched out on her bed like nothing happened. Aria’s curled against his side, her head resting on his arm, eyes wide as she listens to him read.

“‘I don’t need a prince,’ said the princess. “I just need courage and a really good sword,” Dante reads, his voice dropping to a growl for the dragon’s parts.

Aria giggles, pointing at the illustrations.

I can’t move.

I just… watch them.

My chest cracks wide open, and all that guilt? It drowns me. If this was what he would’ve been from the start… if I’d told him the truth… What would our life have looked like?

Tears burn behind my eyes. I must make some sound, because Dante looks up, catches me watching. His expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his eyes—a flicker of... something. Not forgiveness. Not yet. But maybe understanding.

I back away, not wanting to interrupt. Not wanting to taint this moment with my presence.

An hour later, I’m in the kitchen, mindlessly wiping down counters, when I hear Dante’s footsteps behind me.

“She’s asleep,” he says quietly.

“Thank you,” I say, voice low, raw. “For being… kind. To her.”

“She’s my daughter.” Three words, simple and devastating. “I would never take our shit out on her.”

We sit in silence by the fireplace after that. No yelling. No accusations. Just quiet. Heavy.

The flames crackle. My chest aches with everything unsaid.

Then his phone buzzes.

I shouldn’t look. I know I shouldn’t. But I do.

One glance at the screen, and my blood freezes colder than the mountain wind outside.

A text:Hide and Seek.

That’s it.

Three words.

But somehow, they make my heart race. Payback’s already started. And I’m not sure who’s hunting who.

23

DANTE

Cassie’s curled against me, her breathing shallow where her cheek rests on my chest.

Nothing happened last night. But we talked by the fire until Gino’s name came up. It left her shaking so bad that I brought her upstairs, somewhere warmer, safer.

And when she looked at me with those raw, wrecked eyes, whispering, “I can’t be alone tonight,” every line I’d drawn snapped clean in half.

So I held her. Held her all night with the storm of truth sitting between us like a third body. But last night wasn’t the time to fight. Not when she trembled in my arms, and somehow I felt responsible for the hell she’s been crawling through.