Chapter 1802:


    Alban caught the weariness in her eyes, and something twisted quietly in his chest. “Go on, get some rest. I’ll let you know when we’re there.”


    “Okay,” she whispered. Then she shut her eyes and let sleep take her — or at least, she let it seem that way.


    Faking sleep was the simplest escape when the questions piling up had no easy answers.


    Alban drew Adide a little closer, but his gaze kept drifting back to Gillian, steady and gentle. A loose strand of hair had slipped forward across her cheek. His fingers twitched — he wanted to reach over and tuck it behind her ear — but he held back, worried the small touch might set her on edge.


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    While he was still caught between impulse and restraint, Gillian shifted and turned her back to him, leaving him without a word to say. He let out a quiet sigh and let his hand fall away, settling it instead on Adide’s tiny arm and giving it a light pat.


    The flicker of disappointment that crossed his face melted quickly, easing into a slow, warm smile. He nced down at the little girl curled against him, sleeping without a care, then over at Gillian again. His whole expression softened.


    A quiet sweetness bloomed somewhere deep in his chest, spreading outward until the rest of him felt light with it. So this was what real happiness felt like. He caught himself wishing the car would slow, that the miles would stretch out forever so he could stay suspended in this ordinary, perfect moment.


    It wasn’t until the vehicle rolled to a stop at the Jones estate gates that the spell broke. A small pang of loss tugged at him. But then he remembered there was still plenty of road ahead — time enough with Gillian, with Adide — and the ache eased. One day, he would bring them both home to the Martel ce. The three of them living under one roof, a proper family, whole andughing.


    In every future he pictured, Gillian and Adide were smiling.


    He had already mapped out how he would stand by Adide as she grew: raising his only daughter to step into the Martel legacy one day, with everything the family had built eventually resting in her hands. He would spoil her, certainly — but he would also make sure she knew how to hold her own in a world that didn’t hand out favors. Real strength meant she could choose her own direction rather than simply follow someone else’s map.


    Alban knew better than most that for a woman to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the people who ran things, she had to work twice as hard, sometimes three times. He refused to let Adide end up as anyone’s essory. Even if the road was difficult, he would keep pushing her toward the top, toward the seat where decisions were made. As her father, he would throw every resource he had behind her, cheering her on while she learned to walk with confidence.


    Adide was still fast asleep in his arms. He studied her small, calm face, his heart tightening at the thought of everything she had already survived — and everything still waiting down the line. His resolve never wavered.


    He bent his head and brushed the lightest kiss across her forehead, his eyes steady with quiet determination. He would hand her every opportunity he could. Whatever road she chose, he wanted her to grow into a woman whomanded respect on her own terms — never anyone’s shadow.


    And if she ever chose the quieter path instead, then he would pave it smooth ahead of time, making sure every worry was handled long before he left the stage. He would give her a softnding, no matter what.


    His eyes drifted back to Gillian. A small smile curved his mouth, tender and certain. He could already picture it: the two of them married, growing old side by side, the picture finallyplete.


    The car sat quietly in front of the Jones estate for a long while, but Alban didn’t say a word or move to get out.


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