Chapter 1766:


    “Give me that.” Henrik reached forward and took the report, studying it once, then again, then a third time. Then he tipped his head back andughed — a full, unguarded burst of joy. “Yes! Without a doubt. This child is my great-granddaughter!”


    Alban took the report back gently. “Grandpa, keep your voice down. This can’t be known yet.”


    Henrikposed himself with a clearing of his throat, though the delight hadn’t left his eyes. “Forgive me. I got carried away.”


    He had quietly resigned himself to the belief that Alban would be thest of the Martel line — that the family’s story would simply end there. He had never allowed himself to imagine an unexpected blessing like this. For generations, the family had produced sons one after another. A girl, arriving now, felt like something close to a miracle.


    Henrik straightened with a particr satisfaction settling across his face. “The Jones family isn’t the only one with a treasured daughter anymore. The Martels have one too.”


    Alban folded the report carefully and tucked it away, watching his family with quiet reflection. “We should head back for now.”


    No one replied aloud. A look passed between them all, and they left together. The question of what came next — what to do about Gillian and Adide — needed to be discussed properly and without haste.


    In the car, Alban took the report out more than once, staring at it each time with a helpless, slightly foolish smile fixed on his face. He was a father. And the child was the daughter of the woman he loved. No matter how many times he turned it over in his mind, it felt like something too improbable to be real.


    Henrik observed the expression on his grandson’s face with considerably less sentimentality. “So,” he said, his tone sharpening. “What exactly is your n?”


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    “I’m going to do everything I can to win Gillian back,” Alban said, the smile giving way to something more resolute. “I want to bring her and our daughter home properly.”


    Henrik gave him a long, cool sideways look, his skepticism in. “Do you genuinely believe you’re capable of that?”


    His fear was not unfounded. At this rate, Alban might not only fail to win Gillian — he might find that his own daughter wanted nothing to do with him either.


    “Grandpa, you really have that little faith in me?” Alban said, somewhere between exasperation and resignation.


    Henrik made a short, dismissive sound. “At this rate, I may never hold my great-granddaughter if I’m relying on you to make it happen.”


    He was not alone in thinking so. Santos and Colette exchanged a nce that said precisely the same thing. After weeks of effort, Alban had yet to manage a single proper conversation with Gillian. The idea that he could now win her heart stretched credibility considerably.


    Alban looked around at their faces, read the collective doubt written across each one, and felt his expression fall.


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