Chapter 165

Sean POV

The elevator doors opened, and I guided Aria and Ethan into my penthouse. Watching their small faces as they took in the expansive space filled me with an unfamiliar nervousness.

I'd closed multibillion-dollar deals with less anxiety than I felt introducing my children to my home.

"Welcome," I said, ushering them inside. "I hope you like it here."

Aria's eyes widened as she spun around, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows and the impressive city view. Ethan remained close to her, his expression carefully guarded.

Thomas appeared from the kitchen, bowing slightly. "Everything is prepared, Mr. Shaw."

"Thank you, Thomas. That will be all for now."

After he left, I crouched down to the children's level. "I've arranged for a special dinner tonight," I told them. "But first, I thought we might have some fun."

I led them down the hallway to what had once been a home office. The door slid open to reveal a room transformed-filled wall-to-wall with toys, games, and electronics. I'd instructed my assistant to purchase everything a five-year-old might possibly desire, cost irrelevant.

Both children froze in the doorway, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and awe.

"Mr. Night..." Aria whispered, her voice tiny with uncertainty. "Are all these things for Aria and Ethan?"

"Of course," I replied, resting my hand lightly on her shoulder. "I want to become your father, so I need to do better. This is just the beginning. Go ahead, see if you like anything."

I gently guided them into the room, then stepped back to observe their reactions. This was uncharted territory for me-no business strategy or financial model could prepare me for winning over my own children.

Aria tugged at her brother's sleeve. "Ethan, can we play with these things?"

Ethan hesitated, his eyes scanning the room cautiously. "Let's just look for now. Try not to touch anything."

"Why not?" Aria's face scrunched in confusion. "Didn't Mr. Night buy them for us?"

"He did," Ethan conceded, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "But Mr. Night isn't our father yet."

His words struck me like a physical blow. For a moment, all my power and control meant nothing in the face of this small boy's hesitation. I maintained my composed exterior, but inside, his reluctance to accept me cut deeper than I'd expected.

Aria, unswayed by her brother's caution, broke away and made a beeline for a large box containing an intricate Boeing 787 model airplane. Before Ethan could intervene, she had already torn open the packaging with childish enthusiasm.

I approached quietly, watching as her small fingers began sorting through the pieces.

"You like this one?" I asked, kneeling beside her.

Aria nodded vigorously. "Yes! Aria's dream is to become a pilot when she grows up."

"That's a very cool dream," I replied, unable to contain my surprise-and a sudden, overwhelming surge of pride.

In college, I'd obtained my pilot's license, still flying my private jet whenever time allowed. The coincidence felt like confirmation of our shared blood, a genetic thread connecting us despite the years of separation.

Aria thrust out her chest proudly, then suddenly deflated. "But Mr. Night, some kids at school say girls can't easily become pilots."

"Who told you that?" I asked, keeping my voice gentle despite the instant flare of protectiveness. "Don't listen to outdated ideas. If you love it and work hard for it, I'll support you completely. There are so many female leaders in the world-the sky should be no different." I paused, then added, "Actually, I have a pilot's license myself. If you're really interested, I could teach you quite a bit."

"Really?" Her eyes widened. "You can fly planes?"

"Absolutely. Private jets and helicopters both."

"That's amazing!" Aria clapped her hands together. "Aria will work even harder then!"

"Of course," I promised. "I'll take you to the airport sometime. You can sit in the cockpit, see how everything works. Maybe even meet some female pilots."

As Aria turned her attention back to the model with renewed enthusiasm, I felt a warmth spreading through my chest. This small connection, so unexpected yet so perfect, felt like a gift.

I turned my attention to Ethan, who stood slightly apart, watching us.

"What about you, Ethan?" I asked.

He startled slightly. "What?"

"Your sister dreams of becoming a pilot. What's your dream?"

Ethan looked away, fingering the cuff of his custom-tailored shirt-one I'd had specially made for him. "I haven't decided yet."

I studied him, noting the way he avoided my gaze. "Is that the truth, or you just don't want to tell me? You seem to be keeping your guard up around me."

"No, I'm not," he denied quickly, but his body language told a different story.

I wondered if he somehow sensed the truth about Angela and me, if he understood more than his five years should allow. Winning his trust, I realized, would be more challenging than any negotiation I'd ever undertaken.

The doorbell's sudden chime cut through the moment. I stood, straightening my suit jacket.

"That might be your mother," I told Ethan. "I'll get the door."

The doorbell rang again, insistently. I frowned, puzzled. Angela had access codes to my apartment; the security system would recognize her automatically. Perhaps she was deliberately ringing the bell to express her displeasure-it would be characteristic of her.

I swung the door open, already speaking: "You clearly have access, why would you-"

The words died in my throat. Christina Jordan stood in the hallway, flanked by Evan White and William West-not Angela at all.

Christina lunged forward for an embrace, her overpowering perfume invading my space. I stepped back instinctively, avoiding her touch. I didn't want the children smelling her perfume on me.

"Sean..." she said, her expression falling at my retreat.

I surveyed the three of them coldly, my gaze finally settling on Evan, the only one I still marginally respected.

"What are you doing here?" I asked sharply, acutely aware of the children just rooms away. These people were the last complication I needed right now.

William stepped forward, hands spread wide. "What do you mean, 'what are we doing here'? It's my birthday, remember? You promised to come to my party. We've been calling you for hours, man. Got worried when you didn't answer."

I silently cursed myself for forgetting. My mind raced, calculating how quickly I could send them away before they disrupted what precious time I had with my children.