The Don's Regret

I knew how hard Vincent had fought to earn his position. How many enemies he'd made. How many times he'd nearly died.

So during those three years, I never reached out first. I could only wait for him to contact me. Sometimes days. Sometimes weeks.

On the nights when I didn't hear from him, I couldn't sleep. I was terrified of getting news. And even more terrified of getting none.

So many nights spent crying into my pillow. The only thing that kept me going were the memories of our five years together.

Until finally, he finished his mission and came back to me.

Now, as I sat on the floor trying to breathe through the pain, Vincent walked into the bedroom and found me.

"Sophia? The floor is cold. Why are you sitting down here? Are you feeling sick?"

His face was full of concern. His beautiful eyes reflected only me. Just like every other day.

Whether it was the five years before he left, or the month since he'd returned, Vincent had always been good to me. I didn't want to believe what I'd heard.

I quietly locked my phone screen and forced a smile.

"Maybe low blood sugar. I lost my balance for a second. It's nothing."

Vincent relaxed. He carefully helped me up from the floor.

"Let's go to Malibu tomorrow. I'll have Marco book the tickets. You've always loved the ocean, right? How about we take our wedding photos on the beach?"

He was so thoughtful. Always had been. But after what I'd just learned, the words tasted like poison.

"Not interested."

Vincent blinked. Then he gently touched my hand.

"What's wrong, Sophia? Why are you upset? Did something happen? We promised each other, remember? No matter what, we never lie to each other."

His words hit me like a slap.

I looked him straight in the eye.

"Vincent. Is there really nothing you're hiding from me?"

He paused. Then gave me a soft smile.

"What could I possibly hide from you?"

I swallowed the burning in my throat. Nodded.

"Good. Let's sleep, Vincent. I'm tired."

The next morning, we were both woken by knocking at the door.

Vincent opened it. Standing outside was a woman with red-rimmed eyes, holding a little boy around two or three years old.

"Vincent, the boy keeps asking for his father. He won't sleep through the night. I know you said not to come find you, but I didn't know what else to do..."

Vincent's face flickered with panic. He instinctively glanced back at me.

"Sophia, don't misunderstand. This is Vivian Gray, our family's medic. Her husband was my teammate, my brother. He died in the line of duty. I've been looking after her and the boy out of respect for him—"

Before I could answer, Vivian cut in, her voice trembling.

"Miss Black, I know you two are getting married. I didn't want to bother Vincent. But the boy is so young. He keeps crying for his father. I just couldn't—"

I interrupted her. Looked directly at Vincent.

"The boy needs a father, Vincent. Are you his father?"

Vincent shot Vivian a hard look before turning back to me.

"Of course not, Sophia. The boy is over two years old. How could I have a child that age? Luca's father died saving my life. I've been helping them out of gratitude. He calls me 'Dad' because he doesn't understand. It's all a misunderstanding."

I studied the boy's face. His eyes. His nose. The shape of his jaw.

Even at his age, the resemblance to Vincent was unmistakable.

My grandfather was sending a car for me tomorrow night. I didn't want any more trouble. I swallowed the pain twisting in my chest and nodded.

"I believe you. Go ahead and take care of them. I'm going back upstairs to rest."

I turned and walked up the stairs.

Vincent followed close behind.