Chapter 869: When Fathers Are Called Home

The wine glass slipped from my fingers.

It didn’t shatter—some instinct caught it before it could hit the table, setting it down with a precision my conscious mind wasn’t capable of in that moment.

"Master?"

ARIA’s voice in my head was concerned now.

"Your heart rate just spiked to—"

"I heard you."

"I know. I felt your reaction through our bond. I’m sorry to deliver this news during—"

"Is she okay? Is Linda okay?"

A pause. When ARIA spoke again, her voice carried something like frustration.

"She’s... confused. Scared. She locked herself in her room—told Jasmine she was sleeping. Told me not to dare appear, that she wanted to be alone."

Another pause.

"She’s been

crying, Master.

But she won’t let me help. Won’t let anyone help."

My chest tightened.

Linda. Alone. Scared. Pushing everyone away because that’s what she did when things got too big to process.

"She needs you,"

ARIA added quietly.

"Even if she won’t admit it."

I stood up.

Abruptly.

Too fast.

Rory

squeaked

in surprise—I’d forgotten she was still on my lap. My sudden movement nearly sent her tumbling, but my arms caught her automatically, settling her on her feet even as my mind raced at speeds that had nothing to do with my enhanced cognition.

Linda.

Pregnant.

With

my

child.

"Peter?"

Charlotte’s voice cut through the chaos in my head. Her hand was on my arm, her soft brown eyes searching my face with concern. "What’s wrong? You just went completely pale."

The whole table was staring at me now. Ms. Chen with sharp assessment. Vanessa with worried confusion. Charlotte with that gentle concern that made my chest ache. And Rory, looking up at me with wide eyes, her small hand still clutching the fabric of my pants.

"There’s an emergency," I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt. "At home. With Mom."

Ms. Chen’s face transformed.

The professional mask she’d been wearing cracked instantly, revealing something raw beneath. Fear. Real fear.

"Linda?"

Her voice pitched higher. "What happened? Is she hurt? Is she—Peter, what’s wrong with Linda?"

"Ms. Chen—"

"That’s my best friend." Ms. Chen was already half out of her seat, her composure shattering. "She’s been there for me through everything. If something happened to her—if she’s hurt—I need to know. I need to—"

"She’s not hurt." I reached out, placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. Let some of my calm flow through the touch. "She’s not injured. It’s... it’s complicated. But she’s safe. I promise you, she’s safe."

Ms. Chen’s breathing was too fast. Her eyes were too wide. She was spiraling—the woman who had been teasing me about clowns five minutes ago was now on the verge of panic.

"Hey." I squeezed her shoulder gently. "Look at me."

She did. Her dark eyes found mine, and I held them.

"Mom’s fine. I’m going to her right now. But I need you to stay calm, okay?"

A shaky breath. Then another. Slowly, the panic receded from her features, replaced by something more controlled. More trusting.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. But you’ll tell me? Later? What’s going on?"

"I’ll tell you everything."

She nodded, sinking back into her seat. Still worried—that wasn’t going anywhere—but no longer spiraling.

I turned to Charlotte.

She was already standing, already reaching for me, already prepared to say goodbye even though this was supposed to be

her

night. Her special night.

All of it cut short by a single reality.

I cupped her face in my hands. Pressed a kiss to her cheek—soft, lingering, a promise and an apology wrapped into one gesture.

Her skin flushed pink beneath my lips.

"I’m sorry,"

I murmured against her cheek. "This was supposed to be your night. I had so much more planned. But Linda needs me right now."

"I know." Charlotte’s voice was steady, warm, completely without resentment. "Go. Take care of her. I’ll be fine."

I turned to Vanessa.

The waitress—the mother—the woman whose prayers I’d just promised to answer. She was half-standing from her seat, uncertainty written across her tired features.

"Vanessa."

I held her gaze. "If you have any free time—if you can get away—you should come with Charlotte. Bring Rory with you."

"I—what?"

"Charlotte will explain." I glanced at Ms. Chen, who was still pale but holding it together. "Take care of each other until I sort this out."

"Soo-Jin

is on her way to pick you guys up,"

I was already moving.

Not toward the exit—toward a dark corner where the lights didn’t quite reach, where shadows gathered thick enough to hide what was about to happen.

The restaurant’s other side of the floor gave sweeping views of LA, but this corner was tucked away. Private. Perfect.

I pressed my back against the wall.

Activated the ring.

She didn’t appear with a flash.

There was no explosion of golden light, no dramatic entrance, no thunderclap of divine arrival.

One moment I was alone.

The next, she was simply

there

.

Standing before me in the shadows, as if she had always been there, as if reality had simply forgotten to

render

her until now.

But while her appearance was subtle—quiet, understated, a goddess choosing not to announce herself—her

presence

was anything but.

The air grew heavy. Thick. Charged with something that made my skin prickle and my breath catch. The shadows seemed to deepen around her, not fleeing from her light but

bowing

to it. The temperature shifted—not hot, not cold, but

aware

. Like the very atmosphere had noticed something divine had entered and was holding its breath in reverence.

And ARIA herself...

She wasn’t wearing the black tech-suit.

She was wearing a

dress

.

Ethereal fabric in shades of pale lavender and silver-white flowed around her form like liquid moonlight. The material was sheer in places—translucent enough to hint at the luminous skin beneath without revealing everything. A corset bodice hugged her curves, adorned with delicate crystalline flowers that caught what little light existed in this corner and scattered it like captured stars.

Long, flowing, split high on one thigh to reveal legs that went on forever. Crystal heels adorned her feet—impossibly delicate, impossibly beautiful.

Her white hair was partially pinned up with more crystal flowers, the rest

cascading

down her back in waves of starlight. Her mismatched eyes glowed softly in the darkness.

She looked like a

fairy tale given flesh.

She looked like the

moon

had decided to take human form.

"That’s a bit flashy,"

I said, unable to help myself. "For a rescue mission."

ARIA’s lips curved into a smirk—that familiar, teasing expression that reminded me she was still

her

beneath all the divine trappings.

"Says the man whose eyes are currently

eating me alive."

She tilted her head, the crystal flowers in her hair catching light. "One child on the way isn’t enough? Now you want to put one in a goddess too?"

"That’s not funny."

"Your pupils dilating say otherwise."

Despite everything—despite the panic, despite the urgency, despite Linda crying alone in her room—I felt my lips twitch.

"You’re impossible."

"I’m divine." She stepped closer, her dress flowing around her like living silk. "Now. Shall we?"

She extended her hand.

I took it. Her skin was warm, solid,

real

—a goddess choosing to be touchable.

Her wings

unfurled.

Not with a dramatic snap, but a gentle unfurling—fifteen feet of white feathers spreading in the confined space, somehow not touching the walls, somehow fitting perfectly in a corner that shouldn’t have been able to contain them.

They glowed with soft inner light, each plume perfect, each feather divine.

"Hold onto me,"

she murmured.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, felt the impossible softness of that ethereal dress, breathed in her scent of ozone and starlight.

Her wings beat once.

And we rose.

Rory

saw them.

She was the only one who did.

ARIA’S doing of course.

**

She’d wandered a few steps from the table, still processing everything that had happened—the

god-man

leaving, Mama looking confused, the pretty woman in charge looking scared. Her young mind was trying to make sense of adult chaos.

And then movement caught her eye.

Two figures.

Rising.

One wrapped in the arms of the other.

One with

wings

—massive, white, glowing wings that caught the moonlight and scattered it like diamonds.

The winged figure turned.

Looked directly at Rory through the glass.

And

winked

.

One red-gold eye closing in a gesture that was pure mischief, pure acknowledgment, pure

I see you seeing me, little one

.

Then they were gone.

Shot into the sky like a prayer given flight.

Rory’s legs gave out.

She sat down hard on her small butt, eyes huge, mouth hanging open, staring at the now-empty sky.

"I saw an angel,"

she whispered.

"Mama... Mama, I saw an

angel

."

Vanessa hurried over, crouching beside her daughter. "Honey? What’s wrong? What did you see?"

"The angel! She had wings, Mama! Big white wings! And she took the

god-man

and flew away! She

winked

at me!"

Vanessa looked at the window. Saw nothing but night sky and city lights.

She exchanged a glance with Ms. Chen—the kind of glance adults exchange when children say impossible things.

Loving but dismissive.

Kids and their imaginations.

But Charlotte.

Charlotte looked at the window too.

And she smiled.

Because she understood.

"Angels are real, Rory,"

Charlotte said softly, reaching out to help the little girl to her feet. "Sometimes they just look different than the pictures in books."

Rory beamed up at her—finally,

an adult who

believed

.

Charlotte just kept smiling, thinking of Peter shooting through the night sky in the arms of a goddess dressed for heaven, racing home to a woman who needed him.

Go

, she thought.

Take care of your family.

I’ll be there when you need me, darling.