Ethan pushed open the bedroom door to find Sophia reclining on the chaise lounge by the window.

Sunlight danced through the sheer curtains, making the diamond brooch in her hands sparkle.

"Finished talking?" She lifted her gaze, the corners of her eyes tilting up.

Ethan settled beside her, fingers tracing the curve of her waist. "We were discussing how to spoil you rotten."

Sophia burst into laughter and pinned the brooch to his lapel. "Grandmother Eleanor is pushing us to remarry."

"Your father suggested we wait." He pulled her onto his lap, warmth seeping through the fabric.

She caught his wandering hand. "Dad's downstairs."

"Perfect." Ethan nipped at her earlobe. "Let him hear what marital harmony sounds like."

The curtains whispered shut.

His fingertips painted delicate landscapes across her porcelain skin.

At dawn, Vincent Laurent took Sophia to a vintage bowling alley on the city outskirts.

One of Kyoto's last remaining teak-floored establishments, its wood glowed with decades of polish.

"Watch closely." Vincent rolled up his sleeves, long fingers gripping the ball's holes.

Approach. Swing. Release—

Twelve pins clattered in unison.

Sophia mimicked his stance but lacked the same power.

"Use your wrist." Vincent positioned himself behind her, hands hovering near her waist. "Like this."

Guiding her through the motion, his breath stirred her hair.

As the ball left her fingers, Sophia's nose stung unexpectedly.

For twenty-eight years, no one had ever taught her how to play.

"Strike!" Vincent applauded. "Your mother was a champion too."

Sophia stared down the lane. "What... was she like?"

"Softer than moonlight. Brighter than stars." He studied her profile. "When you smile, you're her mirror image."

Murmurs rose from a shadowed corner.

Isabella tugged at Alexander's sleeve. "Look at them. Since when do fathers act like that?"

"Enough." Alexander shook her off. "Vincent treasures Sophia. What's wrong with that?"

"I just feel sorry for Ethan!" Isabella's voice died abruptly.

Ethan strode through the revolving doors, winter clinging to his black overcoat.

He went straight to Sophia, tucking a loose strand behind her ear with practiced ease.

Isabella's nails bit into her palms.

She'd tracked the Laurents' schedule deliberately, only to watch Ethan lavish affection on another woman.

"Ethan—" She took half a step before Alexander yanked her back.

"Remember your position." His voice dropped. "Adrian's fiancée."

Isabella's gaze clung to that broad-shouldered silhouette. "But he's the only one I've ever loved..."

At the exit, Vincent suddenly turned.

His eyes locked with Alexander's across the lanes.

"Alexander's had it hard," he murmured.

Ethan studied his father-in-law's profile. "The three of you share... an odd resemblance."

Vincent's throat worked. Seizing Sophia's wrist, he marched toward the doors.

Twenty-eight years.

Had he stood his ground back then, he'd be walking hand-in-hand with his wife and both children now.

Ethan caught up, claiming Sophia's other hand.

Their three shadows merged into a single silhouette against the glass façade.

Isabella stared at the tableau, bloodshot eyes widening. "Disgusting..."

"You're the one who needs therapy." Alexander threw down his towel. "Keep this up, and you'll become Victoria Windsor 2.0."

Outside, ginkgo leaves swirled like golden snow.

Vincent looked up as one landed on his shoulder—

A gentle pat from fate for a man who'd spent half his life in regret.