Then Mirela pulled him close to her chest and began rocking slowly. Not rushed. Not nervous. A steady, circular rhythm passed down from generations. She hummed an old lullaby her grandmother used to sing — about moonlight, long roads, and protection.
No tricks.
Just presence.
The miracle didn’t arrive with drama.
It came with a sigh.
The sharp sobs softened. Gabriel’s honey-colored eyes fixed on her as if he’d found safe harbor. He yawned.
And then he slept.
Dylan stood frozen in the middle of the room, unsure what to do with his hands. For the first time in months, the mansion fell silent.
The next morning, Dylan made an announcement.
Mirela would become Gabriel’s full-time caregiver — with a salary that sounded unreal.
But his fiancée, Helena Whitmore, didn’t celebrate.
“A housekeeper raising the Montgomery heir?” she said with a thin smile.
Helena brought in a celebrity pediatric specialist with a clipboard and a list of judgments.
The doctor found nothing wrong. Gabriel was healthy, gaining weight, smiling.
Still, Helena paid for a negative report.
Dylan read it carefully.
Then tore it in half.
“My son doesn’t need perfection,” he said calmly. “He needs peace.”
Helena switched tactics.