Chapter 6
"When Elsie was born, everything changed," Clara continued, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I realized your father's web was everywhere. I sent her here to Mrs. Brooks, where she would be safe from my poverty."
Gabriel's breath hitched in his throat as the mathematics of time twisted violently. "Thirty years... but Elsie is only four. How could she possibly be the child my father swore to destroy?"
Mrs. Brooks lowered her head, wiping away a tear with the corner of her apron. "Elsie is your grandchild, Gabriel. Your son Julian had her with Clara's ward before he died in the harbor accident."
The world seemed to spin on its axis, rearranging every grief Gabriel had endured. Julian, his brave boy who drowned four years ago, had not left the earth entirely empty-handed after all.
"Julian," Gabriel murmured, the name a sacred prayer on his lips. His son had carried that same rebellious kindness, defying family expectations just as Gabriel had once tried to do so many decades ago.
"Julian found me five years ago," Clara explained, stepping closer into the golden light. "He tracked me down across the country, seeking the truth about the woman his father had loved and mourned for decades."
Chapter 4
"He knew?" Gabriel asked, stunned to the marrow of his bones. "My own son knew you were alive, and he kept that truth hidden from me while we worked side by side every day?"
"He wanted to bring us together properly, Gabriel," Clara said gently. "Julian wanted to heal your broken heart, but before he could finish gathering the missing pieces, the dark waters took him away."
Gabriel’s vision blurred as tears finally escaped his lashes, tracing hot paths down his scarred cheeks. The ruthless titan of industry stood completely dismantled in the grand foyer he had built to intimidate others.
Elsie slipped away from Clara’s side and walked purposefully toward Gabriel once more. Her tiny hand reached up, taking his trembling fingers without hesitation, anchoring him to the present with pure, unconditional warmth.
"Grandpa," the little girl said plainly, testing the word on her tongue with delightful curiosity. "You're holding the star wrong. You're squeezing it too tight, and you'll make the paper hurt."
A sound escaped Gabriel’s chest—halfway between a sob and a laugh. He sank down to both knees, uncaring of the cold marble, leveling his gaze with the granddaughter who had unlocked his cage.