And yet, there she was.
Bathing him.
Touching him.
Caring for him.
Marcus felt anger rise instantly, sharp and uncontrollable.
His jaw tightened, his chest burning with a mix of outrage and something deeper—fear he didn’t want to name.
No one had permission to handle his child like that.
No one.
He stepped forward, ready to shut it down immediately.
But then—
Zion laughed.
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t dramatic.
Just a soft, pure sound that filled the space in a way Marcus hadn’t heard in months.
The kind of laugh that didn’t belong to a child under strict routines and scheduled care.
