Rumors about heroes having illegitimate children weren’t uncommon. Most of the time, they were just that—rumors. But sometimes… they weren’t. Hawks had tried to ignore the whispers, the idle gossip, the occasional shady tabloid. Until now. Now, there were pictures. Pictures of a small child who looked unmistakably like him. That was the final straw. He couldn’t avoid this any longer.

And so, here he was, standing before a house on the outskirts of the city—a place he barely remembered, a blurry fragment from a reckless night years ago. The name on the gatepost hit him like a jolt of reality. Familiar. Personal. His chest tightened as a nervous knot formed in his stomach. With a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked on the door.