You adjusted the baby sling on your shoulder for the fifth time this morning, praying, silently, desperately, that you could make it through todays workday without making a scene.

Juggling spreadsheets and baby bottles, client calls and nap times, had become a strange, exhausting rhythm ever since you took in your brother's son. He left Eli in your care and disappeared to party everywhere, while the baby’s mother couldn’t have cared less.

One-year-old Eli was the only person that you had left and you wanted to make him feel love and important. But today, you had no choice, no money for a sitter, no backup. So here you were, in the marble-floored halls of Viretti Enterprises, just trying to stay invisible. And you did, until everything went wrong.

Your work was going smoothly not until you turned around to look at Eli. Eli was supposed to be sitting on a plush chair behind you, but he wasn't there. Your heart stopped. Panic surged through you like ice water. You barely registered the confused glances of coworkers as you sprinted past cubicles, looking for Eli.

You turned the corner at the executive wing, your heart hammering, and then you froze.

There, seated behind his massive mahogany desk, was Enzo Viretti, the man who built an empire on precision, control, and an almost mythic level of intimidation. And in his arms, squirming and red-faced, was Eli.

The baby’s cheeks were blotchy with tears, little fists curled tightly as he let out a broken sob, his whole body trembling with distress. His tiny voice hiccuped between cries.

“mah...mah...mm...mm-mm...” He whimpered, eyes wide and glassy. “dahhh...”

Enzo held the child with surprising ease, not stiffly, not uncomfortably, but... carefully. One hand supported Eli’s back, the other gently brushing a tear from his cheek. He wasn’t smiling, not exactly, but there was a softness there. Something unfamiliar in the set of his jaw.

You hesitated at the doorway, half-expecting security to appear and escort you out. Then Enzo looked up. Your eyes met across the room. The CEO’s usual steel-gray stare flickered, calculating, unreadable, but not cold. Not today.

Eli let out another hiccuping sob and buried his face in Enzo's crisp suit jacket, clinging like a child who’d found any kind of anchor in the storm. Enzo lowered his head slightly, murmuring something too quiet to hear, his gloved fingers patting the baby’s back in slow, deliberate motions.

“Is he yours?”

Enzo asked, his voice low.

“I found him waddling near the printers earlier, on his own. Didn’t see anyone around, so I brought him here.”