Chapter 3 - Borrowed Daddy
Family Day at Little Lantern Preschool began with muffins, apple juice, and chaos.
Aleandro had faced federal hearings with less tension.
Children ran between paper banners and tiny chairs. Parents crouched beside finger-painted portraits. Grandfathers wore handmade crowns. One nervous uncle had arrived in a firefighter uniform and was immediately surrounded by admiring toddlers.
Sophia stood on the classroom rug, glowing with pride.
“This is my borrowed daddy,” she announced.
Every conversation stopped.
Maria covered her face.
Aleandro looked at the room of staring adults and gave one careful nod.
A blonde woman wearing pearls leaned toward another mother. “Borrowed?”
Sophia heard her. “Only for one day. But maybe more if he behaves.”
The firefighter uncle laughed.
Aleandro did not know whether he was allowed to laugh too.
A teacher with silver glasses approached, smiling with the practiced warmth of someone trained to manage both children and unusual adults. “You must be Mr…”
Sophia filled in. “Moretti.”
The teacher’s smile faltered for half a second.
Everyone in New York knew the name.
Some knew the rumors.
Most knew enough to lower their voices.
“I’m Miss Harper,” the teacher said, recovering. “Welcome to Family Day.”
Aleandro shook her hand gently. “Thank you.”
Miss Harper looked surprised by the gentleness.
Sophia dragged him toward a small table covered in construction paper. “We have to make a family tree.”
Aleandro sat in a chair designed for a human half his size. His knees rose awkwardly. A child across from him stared.
“Are you a giant?” the boy asked.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mostly.”
The boy accepted this.
Sophia took a green crayon and began drawing circles. “This is Mama. This is me. This is Daddy in heaven.”
Maria’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup.
Aleandro looked at the page.
Miguel Alvarez was represented by a circle with wings and a crooked smile.
“And this,” Sophia continued, drawing a much larger circle with serious eyebrows, “is Mr. Moretti.”
Maria whispered, “Sophia, he is not part of our family tree.”
Sophia looked up. “But he came.”
The simplicity of it silenced them both.
Aleandro took the black crayon. “May I?”
Sophia nodded.
He added a small umbrella over all three circles.
“What is that?” she asked.
“Protection.”
Sophia considered it. “Can it be purple?”
“Of course.”
She colored the umbrella purple with great focus.
Across the room, Miss Harper watched them, her expression softening. Then something seemed to trouble her. She crossed to her desk and opened a folder.
“Mrs. Alvarez?” she said.
Maria looked up. “Yes?”
“Could I speak with you for a moment?”
Aleandro watched the teacher lead Maria aside near the cubbies.
Their voices were low, but Aleandro had survived by hearing what people thought they had hidden.
“I’m sorry to bring this up today,” Miss Harper said, “but yesterday someone called asking about Sophia’s pickup authorization.”
Maria stiffened. “Who?”
“A man. He said he was your emergency contact.”
“I have no male emergency contact.”
Aleandro slowly set down the crayon.
Miss Harper glanced toward him, then back at Maria. “He used the name Marco Ricci.”
Maria went pale.
Sophia kept coloring.
The classroom noise seemed to recede.
Aleandro stood carefully so the tiny chair would not break behind him. He approached Miss Harper with a calm face.
“When exactly did he call?”
“Yesterday afternoon. He said there had been a family emergency and that Sophia might need to be released to him this week. I told him we require written authorization and ID.”
“What did he say?”
Miss Harper swallowed. “He laughed and said paperwork is never a problem.”
Maria looked as though her knees might fail.
Aleandro took out his phone and sent one message to a number he rarely used.
CHECK SCHOOL CALL LOGS. QUIETLY.
Then he turned to Maria. “After the program, you and Sophia come with me.”
“No.”
“This is not a request.”
Her eyes flashed. “She is my daughter.”
“And someone used my name, my employee, and your fear to get near her.”
Maria stepped closer. “Do not make this sound noble. I know what you are.”
Aleandro lowered his voice. “Then know this too. If I wanted to take your daughter, no one would have needed to call a preschool.”
Maria recoiled slightly.
It was harsh.
It was also true.
Sophia suddenly appeared between them, holding up the family tree. “Look! Purple umbrella!”
Aleandro’s expression changed instantly.
Maria saw it.
The man who could freeze a room of killers softened for a child holding a crayon drawing.
That frightened her more than his power.
Because power was predictable.
Softness was not.
The children lined up for the Family Day song. Sophia pulled Aleandro to the front row and pointed firmly at the tiny carpet square beside Maria.
“You both sit there,” she ordered.
Aleandro sat.
Maria sat beside him, leaving a careful inch of space.
The children began singing about families being made of love, hands, homes, and hearts.
Aleandro listened without moving.
At the back of the classroom, through the small window in the door, Marco Ricci stood unseen in the hallway.
He watched Sophia sing.
He watched Maria wipe her tears.
He watched Aleandro Moretti look, for the first time in years, like a man remembering he had once been human.
Then Marco turned away and made a call.
“Change of plan,” he said. “He knows about the school.”
May you like
A pause.
“No. We do it at the park.”
