Chapter 31 — One Year Later

The autumn sun streamed through the wide windows of a small, warm townhouse in Park Slope, lighting the hardwood floors and the drawings taped to the refrigerator.

I had resigned from my father’s investment firm and liquidated my shares — using them to establish an independent educational trust for Arabella and to fund a legal-advocacy group for low-income mothers facing custodial interference.

On the kitchen counter sat a freshly opened paternity report from an accredited lab, confirming what my heart had known the moment I saw those storm-gray eyes at the airport. Probability of paternity: 99.99%.

Chapter 32 — Rebuilt From the Ground Up

In the living room, three-year-old Arabella sat on a plush rug, lining up her plastic blocks, the rabbit named Biscuit propped beside her.