Sophie squeezed her eyes shut but didn’t lower her arms. “It was an accident… Please don’t hit Caleb. Hit me instead. He’s just a baby…”
“Shut up!” Vanessa snapped. “Your father isn’t here. I’m in charge.”
Jonathan felt something inside him shift—not explosive anger, but something colder. He pushed the door open.
“Vanessa.”
She froze. The spoon fell to the floor. She turned slowly, panic flashing across her face before she forced a brittle smile. “Jonathan! You’re home early!”
He didn’t look at her. He walked straight to Sophie. When he knelt, she flinched and raised her arms to protect her head.
That nearly broke him.
“Sophie,” he whispered. “It’s Daddy.”
She lowered her hands slowly. “Daddy?” she asked, as if afraid he wasn’t real.
“It’s me.”
She burst into sobs and threw herself at him. He held her tightly, lifting Caleb with his other arm. The smell of sour milk and baby tears filled the air.
“Jonathan, please,” Vanessa began quickly. “You’re misunderstanding. They were out of control. You’re never here. I have to discipline them.”
He stood, both children in his arms. “You call this discipline?”
“She bruised herself playing,” Vanessa lied. “I love them. I’m doing this for their own good.”