“Absolutely,” Stanton said. “In fact, my company has a development division. If you want, you can do a summer internship there next year. See whether you really like it.”
“That’d be awesome.” The boy’s eyes shone.
Just then there was a knock, and Nina stepped into the office. She had changed too over the past few months. She looked healthier, more confident. A tailored business suit suited her well, and there was a brightness in her expression that hadn’t been there before.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I need your signature on these before the end of the day.”
She set a folder on the desk. Stanton noticed the quick glance she gave Alex—checking, as mothers do, whether everything was all right. That instinctive concern always moved him.
“Sit down, Nina,” he said. “Alex and I were just talking about what he might study.”
Nina sat on the edge of a chair, looking at her son with interest.
“And what did you decide?”
“I want to go into programming,” Alex said firmly. “And Dad thinks it’s a good idea.”
Stanton went still. It was the first time Alex had called him Dad. Judging by Nina’s expression, she had noticed too.
“Yes,” Stanton said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I think Alex should follow what genuinely interests him.”
Nina smiled.
“Well then, if the two of you are in agreement, I won’t argue. You’ve always been good with numbers and systems, Alex.”
The boy looked pleased, happy to have both parents on his side.
“Then it’s settled. I’m going to look at college websites.” He stood up. “Can I use the computer in the reception area?”
“Of course,” Stanton said. “Tell Marissa I said it’s fine.”
Alex headed out, leaving the two of them alone. Nina looked thoughtfully at the closed door.
“He called you Dad,” she said softly.
“I noticed,” Stanton said just as softly. “Didn’t expect it this soon.”
“Neither did I,” Nina admitted. “But I think you’ve earned his trust.”
Michael looked at her with quiet gratitude.
“That means a lot to me, Nina. More than you know.”
She nodded absently, sorting through the papers on his desk.
“Sometimes,” she said after a pause, “I think about how strange all this is. If someone had told me a year ago that Alex would call you Dad and I’d be working at your company…”
“You’d have laughed,” Stanton finished for her.
“I would have,” she said. “And yet here we are.”
There was no bitterness in her voice now. Just calm recognition, and maybe a little wonder.
“Do you regret it?” Michael asked carefully.
Nina thought for a moment, looking out at the evening skyline.
“Regret what exactly?”
“Letting me back into your lives.”
She shook her head.
“No. I don’t. Alex needed a father. A real one. Not the made-up version I gave him all those years. And…” She paused. “You turned out better than I expected.”
“Thank you,” Stanton said quietly. “I’m trying.”
“I can see that,” Nina said. “And I appreciate it.”
A comfortable silence settled between them.
“Did you sign the TechInvest agreement?” Nina asked at last, slipping back into business mode.
“Not yet.” Stanton picked up the folder she had brought in. “I’ll do it now.”
“No rush. It’s not due until tomorrow. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten.”
She started toward the door, but Stanton called after her.
“Nina.”
She turned, one eyebrow raised.
“Alex and I are going fishing this weekend,” he said. “Why don’t you come with us? Might be nice.”
Nina smiled—a real smile, the kind he had not seen in years.
“You know what? I think I will.”
She left the office, and Stanton sat back in his chair, feeling an unfamiliar lightness. There was still plenty of work ahead—business, fatherhood, and whatever might still be possible with Nina. But for the first time in years, he felt he was moving in the right direction.
He got up and walked to the window, looking out over the city. Somewhere back there, at the Imperial, everything had started over three months earlier. A scruffy kid with sharp eyes had leaned in and said, “Sir, you need to leave. They came for you.” And with that, he had changed Michael Stanton’s life and given him a chance to make things right.
The black mark on Alex’s hand was gone now, erased without much trace. But the mark on Michael—the one left by his own betrayal—was beginning, slowly, to fade too. That mattered more than anything.
Stanton returned to his desk, picked up his pen, and started signing documents. A new day was waiting, and a new life with room in it not just for business, but for something real.
