The Melody

It happened on a Friday evening.

The office was empty. The winter sun had set hours ago, plunging Seattle into darkness. A storm had rolled in off the Sound, violent and thrashing.

Ivy was packing up her things. Leo was asleep on the leather sofa in the corner, covered in Ivy’s pashmina.

Julian was still working, the blue light of his monitor reflecting in his glasses.

*BOOM.*

Thunder shook the building. The lights flickered.

Leo bolted upright. His eyes went wide, panic seizing his small features. He opened his mouth in a silent scream, clutching his chest.

"Leo!" Ivy dropped her bag and ran to him. "It’s okay, baby. It’s just noise. It’s just big noise."

Leo was shaking, tears streaming down his face. He was hyperventilating.

Julian was there in an instant.

He didn't hesitate. He sat on the sofa and pulled Leo into his lap. He pressed the boy’s head against his chest, covering Leo’s ears with his large, warm hands.

"Focus on the vibration," Julian said, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "Feel the rhythm."

Leo struggled for a second, then settled, feeling the steady beat of Julian’s heart.

Julian began to hum.

It wasn't a nursery rhyme. It was a complex, melancholic melody. A jazz standard, slowed down to a lullaby. *Nature Boy.*

Ivy froze.

She stopped breathing. The room spun.

*Five years ago. A balcony overlooking the masquerade. She was shivering in her silk dress. The man in the mask had pulled her close to block the wind. He had hummed that exact song against her hair.*

*“A very strange enchanted boy...”*

Ivy stared at Julian. The lighting from the storm illuminated his profile. The sharp jaw. The intense focus.

She looked at Leo. The same jaw. The same eyes.

Julian finished the song. Leo’s breathing had evened out.

Julian looked up. He found Ivy staring at him with a look of absolute devastation.

"It works," Julian whispered. "My mother used to sing it to me when the world got too loud."

Ivy backed away, hitting the glass wall. "You."

Julian frowned. "What?"

"The masquerade," Ivy whispered. "The Venetian mask. The Winter Gala. Five years ago."

Julian went still. His hands were still covering Leo’s ears.

He looked at Ivy. He really looked at her. He stripped away the cardigans and the messy hair and saw the woman beneath. The curve of her neck. The defiance in her eyes.

He looked down at the boy in his lap. A boy with sensory issues. A boy who loved silence. A boy who looked exactly like his own childhood photos.

The math clicked into place with the force of a tectonic shift.

Julian’s face went pale. Then, it went cold.

"Ivy," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Is he mine?"

Ivy started to cry. "I didn't know. I didn't know who you were. You were just a stranger in a mask. By the time I found out I was pregnant, I had no name. No way to find you."

"Is he mine?" Julian repeated.

"Yes."

Julian looked down at Leo. His son. His flesh and blood, terrified of the thunder, comforted only by his father’s hands.

A mixture of wonder and blinding rage crashed through him.

He gently lifted Leo off his lap and set him back on the cushions. He stood up.

"You've been in my office for a week," Julian said. "You saw us together. And you said nothing."

"I was scared!" Ivy sobbed. "You’re the CEO. You’re ruthless. I thought you’d take him away. Or fire me. I need this job, Julian."

"You stole four years," Julian said. The ice was back, thicker than ever. "You stole his first steps. His first words. You let me live in this empty box while my son was out there."

"I didn't know it was you until just now!"

"Get out," Julian said.

"Julian, please—"

"Get out!" The shout cracked the air.

Leo flinched on the sofa.

Julian saw the fear in the boy’s eyes. He closed his eyes, physically pained by his own outburst.

"Leave," Julian whispered. "Take him. And go. You’ll hear from my lawyers regarding support and visitation. But you are done at Vanguard. I can't look at you."

Ivy grabbed Leo. She grabbed her bag. She ran.

The door closed.

Julian stood alone in the soundproof office. The silence returned. It was perfect. It was absolute.

And it was the loneliest sound he had ever heard.

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