Chapter 3 - The Daughter He Never Knew
The DNA results arrived two days later.
Daniel entered Bastion’s office carrying a sealed folder. Marcus followed him and closed the door.
Willa sat on the leather sofa with a book open in her lap. She had insisted on being present.
Daniel placed the folder on the desk.
“The probability of paternity is greater than 99.99 percent.”
Willa looked at Bastion.
He did not open the folder.
“So?” she asked.
“So you’re my daughter.”
Her fingers tightened around the book.
“I knew that.”
Bastion leaned back. “You seem very confident.”
“I have your eyebrows.”
Marcus turned away, hiding a smile.
Bastion glanced at him. “Something funny?”
“No.”
Daniel cleared his throat.
“There’s another issue.”
“There always is,” Bastion said.
“Norah named Bastion as preferred guardian in a handwritten document, but it wasn’t formally witnessed. Child services has requested a home evaluation.”
Willa’s face hardened. “They’re coming here?”
“A social worker will speak with you,” Daniel said gently.
“I don’t want to speak with her.”
Bastion folded his hands on the desk.
“You will.”
Willa stood. “You said no one would take me.”
“I said I wouldn’t let them.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference is that avoiding them makes us look unstable.”
“We are unstable.”
Daniel looked down at his papers.
Bastion’s eyes narrowed. “We are adapting.”
“You didn’t know I existed three days ago.”
“And now I do.”
Willa stared at him.
Bastion’s voice softened. “No one is taking you today.”
She sat again, though she did not reopen her book.
The social worker arrived that afternoon.
Elaine Porter was in her fifties, with practical shoes and a calm expression that seemed unaffected by Bastion’s security staff.
She walked through the penthouse, inspected the guest room, and asked to speak with Willa alone.
“No,” Bastion said.
Elaine looked at him over her glasses. “Mr. Crowe, private interviews are standard.”
“She’s eight.”
“That’s why I need to know whether she feels safe.”
Willa stepped between them.
“I’ll talk to her.”
Bastion looked down at her.
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. You said avoiding her makes us look unstable.”
Elaine’s mouth twitched.
Bastion moved aside. “The library.”
Elaine and Willa disappeared behind the closed door.
Bastion remained in the hall.
Marcus leaned against the wall. “You’ve faced federal investigators with less tension.”
“They weren’t questioning my fitness as a parent.”
“You’ve been a parent for seventy-two hours.”
“That doesn’t make the question less insulting.”
“You have men with guns in the lobby.”
“For protection.”
“You own nightclubs, shipping companies, and businesses that keep prosecutors awake.”
“All legal.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“Mostly legal,” Bastion corrected.
The library door opened thirty minutes later.
Elaine emerged alone.
“Willa asked for a minute,” she said.
Bastion studied her face. “What did she say?”
“I’m not giving you a transcript.”
“This is my house.”
“And she is a child, not an employee.”
Marcus looked toward the ceiling, clearly enjoying the exchange.
Elaine sat in the living room.
“You have significant resources,” she said. “That helps. But money isn’t parenting.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you?”
Bastion’s jaw flexed.
“She has no school placement, no pediatrician in Chicago, and no established routine. She barely slept the first two nights.”
“How do you know?”
“She told me.”
“She told you that?”
“She also said you stand outside her door at night and think she doesn’t notice.”
Bastion’s expression changed.
Elaine continued. “She said you don’t know what to say when she cries, but you stay.”
He looked toward the library.
Elaine lowered her voice.
“That matters more than knowing the perfect words.”
“What happens next?”
“I’ll recommend temporary placement with you while the court reviews guardianship.”
Bastion’s shoulders loosened slightly.
“Temporary?”
“Permanent custody requires more evaluation.”
“I don’t like being evaluated.”
“I gathered that.”
Elaine stood.
“One more thing. Willa’s mother left behind unpaid medical bills and a storage unit. The landlord reported that someone attempted to access the unit yesterday using forged identification.”
Bastion went still.
“Who?”
“Police are investigating.”
Marcus was already reaching for his phone.
Bastion stopped him with a look.
“After she leaves.”
Elaine looked between them. “Mr. Crowe, whatever business you’re involved in, do not turn this child’s custody case into a crime scene.”
“I have no intention of doing that.”
“That sentence was not reassuring.”
When she left, Willa remained in the library.
Bastion found her by the window, holding Norah’s letter.
“You took that from my desk,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You could have asked.”
“You might have said no.”
“I would have.”
“That proves my point.”
Bastion crossed his arms. “She recommended you stay.”
Willa looked up quickly.
“For how long?”
“Until the court decides.”
“So not forever.”
“We’re working on forever.”
She searched his face.
“Do you want me here?”
The question was quiet enough that he almost missed it.
He approached her slowly.
“I didn’t know you existed,” he said. “Then you walked into my restaurant and handed me four pages that changed my life.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“No,” he agreed.
He crouched so they were eye level.
“I don’t know how to be your father yet.”
Her gaze dropped.
“But I want the chance to learn.”
Willa looked back at him.
“Even though I’m difficult?”
“Especially because you’re difficult.”
A tiny smile appeared.
Then Marcus entered without knocking.
“Bastion.”
His tone erased the warmth from the room.
“What happened?”
“We found the man who tried to enter Norah’s storage unit.”
“Who is he?”
“Elias Crane.”
Bastion stood.
The name belonged to one of his former financial managers—a man fired six years earlier for selling information.
Willa looked between them.
“Did he know my mom?”
Marcus nodded slowly.
“He worked at the property firm where she met your father.”
Bastion’s eyes hardened.
“What was he looking for?”
Marcus held up a photograph captured from security footage.
“A black ledger Norah removed before she left Chicago.”
Willa’s face went pale.
“I know what that is.”
Bastion turned to her.
May you like
She gripped the canvas tote with both hands.
“Mom told me never to show it to anyone.”
