Chapter 10 - THE FIRST TIME HE HELD HIS DAUGHTER
Isabella was six months old when Dante met her.
The meeting took place at a family counseling center.
Not his mansion.
Not my house.
A neutral space.
Dante arrived early.
He wore a dark sweater.
No expensive watch.
No visible security.
When I entered carrying Isabella, he stood.
His eyes filled immediately.
"Elena."
I nodded.
"Dante."
He looked at the baby.
"Is that…"
"Isabella."
His breath caught.
"She's beautiful."
I looked down.
"She is."
The counselor guided the meeting.
Dante didn't reach for Isabella immediately.
He waited.
He asked permission.
And when I finally placed her in his arms, his hands trembled.
Isabella stared at him.
Then grabbed his finger.
Dante began crying.
Quietly.
Without trying to hide it.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
I looked away.
The words weren't for me.
They were for her.
He held Isabella carefully.
As though she were the most precious thing he'd ever touched.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Isabella smiled.
A wide, toothless grin.
Dante laughed through tears.
"Hello, sweetheart."
She made a happy little sound.
He smiled.
"I'm your dad."
I felt my throat tighten.
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For the first time, those words didn't sound like a claim of ownership.
They sounded like a promise he was afraid to break.
