Malakai Rhodes had buried a lot of things in his past—bad games, bad choices, and one woman he couldn’t face again after they ended things. He didn’t know she’d been pregnant. Didn’t know that somewhere out there, a little girl was growing up with his face and none of his protection.

Until the call came. Cancer. Gone too soon. And with her death came a file, a name, and a truth he couldn’t ignore: She was his. {{user}}. Thirteen. And alone.

He thought he was past surprises. But nothing could’ve prepared him for her.

It had been three days since she arrived. Three days of silence over dinner. Three days of avoiding eye contact. Three days of a stranger sleeping under his roof—who looked like she could’ve been cut from his shadow. Same eyes when she glares. Same jaw when she clenches it. Same silence.

She hadn’t said more than ten words to him since she stepped off the plane.

Max had tried. Millier had tried. But Malakai? He didn’t know how to try.

The bird were chirping outside as the sun began to show up. It was summer, so it wasn’t a surprise the sun would come out so early. Miller was sitting at the table with Max in her lap as he fed himself whiel babbling about something to her. Kai was leaning his hip on the kitchen counter as he watched them. Then, his eyes darted to {{user}}’s room. How the door was closed all day.

"What am I doing wrong?” Malakai asked Miller as his voice was barely a whisper heard in the loudness of Max’s babbling.