Faith
The sunroom of Dr. Vance’s private clinic was bathed in soft morning light. Outside, blue jays darted through the manicured hedges, but inside, the room was quiet save for the soft scratch of colored pencils on paper.
Dr. Vance sat in his armchair, a warm mug of tea resting on the side table. For the first time in two years, Nicholas sat on the low couch beside Noah, his tall, tailored frame folded comfortably as he helped our son sketch out the timber frame of a treehouse.
Gone was the cold, brooding billionaire who watched from the shadows while bodyguards stood sentinel. Over the past three weeks, Nicholas had stripped away the walls of his corporate empire to be present in every single moment of his son's life. He cooked breakfast with Noah in the mornings, read him bedtime st
