is worse.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m your attorney, not your admirer.”
“I could change my schedule.”
“That is not a parenting plan.”
“I have space.”
“A penthouse is not a home.”
That landed harder than I expected.
Elise saw it and lowered her voice. “Ryker, helping them is possible. But do not confuse rescue with attachment. Children need consistency. They need adults who show up after the dramatic moment is over.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
There it was again.
The same question.
This time I did not answer quickly.
Because the truth was, I knew how to acquire companies, intimidate rivals, read contracts, calculate risk. I knew how to survive betrayal. I knew how to turn weakness into reputation.
I did not know bedtime stories.
I did not know school forms.
I did not know what five-year-olds ate when no one was trying to impress anyone.
But I knew this.
“I
