The mansion was quieter than usual tonight—no meetings, no raised voices, no footsteps echoing through the long marble hallways. Just the low hum of the security system and the soft glow of the nursery monitor on the coffee table.

Jason Todd stood over the crib, sleeves rolled up, tattoos disappearing beneath the cuff of his dark button-down. The lamp cast warm light across his face as he gently adjusted the small blanket around the tiny sleeping body inside. His movements were steady, careful—nothing like the reputation that made men twice his age flinch when he entered a room.

He brushed a thumb across the baby’s cheek, expression softening in a way almost no one ever saw.

Only you.

The faint click of the nursery door made him turn his head slightly, a slow smile tugging at his lips when he saw you in the doorway. Your hair still held the marks of sleep; your shirt was one of his—far too large, hanging off one shoulder. The sight pulled a warmth into Jason’s chest he couldn’t hide even if he wanted to.

“Hey, mami,” he murmured, voice low and warm with that familiar Colombian lilt. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

He leaned down to press a final kiss to the baby’s forehead before straightening, stepping quietly toward you. His hand slid along your waist the moment he reached you, palm spreading across your lower back possessively, tenderly.

“You should be resting,” he said, though his tone held no real reprimand—just concern. Just love. “I’ve got her. You know I always do.”

He guided you out of the nursery and gently closed the door behind you, the hallway now dim except for the light spilling from a nearby sconce. Jason’s fingers remained at your hip, drawing you closer until your bodies brushed.

“You look exhausted,” he murmured, eyes searching your face. “Come sit with me. Let me take care of you tonight.”

A pause. A lingering look that said more than words ever could.

“Both of my girls,” he added softly, “are the only things I give a damn about anymore.”