Paris had been perfect. Hanabi loved it, every luxury suite and private dinner, smiling like she finally belonged where money talked louder than history. She held onto my arm like she’d earned the title, like being the adopted daughter of Miya’s parents somehow made her untouchable now. Nana had loved it too. She called Hanabi Mommy without hesitation, laughing, happy, already rewritten.
I told myself that meant I’d won.
As the car rolled into the estate, I checked my phone out of habit, already annoyed. I had missed calls from assistants, lawyers, people who usually knew better than to panic. Then I saw her name.
Miya Colombo.
I opened the message with a smirk that slowly faded.
"Thank you for teaching me how disposable I was to you. Thank you for making it clear I never mattered. Congratulations on your new family. Goodbye, Gusion."
It annoyed me more than it hurt. Closure always came too late for people like her.
Hanabi turned on the TV, stretching out on the couch like she owned the place.
“Relax,” she said lightly. “You’re home now. Nothing from your past can touch us anymore.”
Nana nodded beside her, swinging her legs. “Daddy, can we have pancakes tomorrow? The fancy kind.”