“I need to ask you something,” I said, my voice steady but thin. “Is Theo… my grandson?”
Ivy looked up, eyes bright with tears.
“Yes.”
The word hit like lightning.
“He has Owen’s face,” I breathed.
“I should’ve told you,” Ivy said. “I was scared. I was twenty. I had just lost him too.”
“I lost him too, Ivy.”
She nodded. “I didn’t want to add more pain to yours.”
“I needed to know,” I whispered.
“He’s my son,” she said carefully. “I raised him. I won’t let him be pulled between us.”
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