Richard opened his eyes.
A new photograph had appeared beneath the article.
It showed Kristoff and Isobel standing side by side, holding Alexander between them.
The little boy was nestled comfortably in their arms. His round cheeks and innocent expression gave him an almost angelic appearance.
Kristoff stood close to Isobel, one arm supporting the child, while Isobel smiled down at Alexander.
It was an ordinary family photograph. That was what made it so devastating.
There was no diamond ring. No dramatic declaration. No audience watching them. Just three people standing together, looking as though they belonged in the same picture.
Richard’s gaze shifted to the headline.
"THE DALTON HEIR REVEALS ISOBEL LANCEY AS THE MOTHER OF HIS SON"
For a long moment, he didn’t move.
Then his fingers slowly curled around the phone.
So, he’s finally made it public.
He had known about Alexander, of course. The boy’s existence was no longer news to him.
But knowing that Isobel had a son and seeing her pictured beside the child’s father were two entirely different things.
Alexander was Isobel’s son.
Kristoff was the boy’s father.
They weren’t merely two people connected by a child. They were standing together, sharing a moment that belonged to their little family.
And Richard was on the outside looking in.
His eyes returned to Isobel’s face.
She was smiling.
Not the polite smile she gave acquaintances. Not the gentle expression she wore when comforting someone. This smile was softer, unguarded, and full of affection.
He had always found it beautiful.
Now, for the first time, the sight hurt.
Because the smile wasn’t for him.
But he wanted to be part of the reason she smiled like that.
He wanted to be the person standing beside her in the photographs, like he used to during her birthdays when she was still a child.
He wanted to share the small, unremarkable moments that made up a life together.
He wanted to watch Isobel grow older.
He wanted to be there on the days when she was happy and the nights when she was too exhausted to speak.
He wanted things he had never allowed himself to say aloud because he had been too afraid of losing the place he already occupied in her life.
And now, looking at that photograph, he realized that the place he wanted wasn’t empty.
Kristoff already stood there, thankfully not as Isobel’s husband, but as Alexander’s father.
A man who would always have a reason to call Isobel, to visit her, to be present in her life. A man whose connection to her could never be erased by distance, a quarrel, or even a failed romance.
Richard could wait for Isobel. He could support her. He could love her from a distance and tell himself that one day she might finally see him differently.
But he couldn’t compete with the bond between a mother and her child.
And he certainly couldn’t compete with a father who shared that bond.
His jaw tightened.
What do you have that I don’t, Kristoff?
The question rose unbidden in his mind.
Money? Richard had enough.
Influence? He had built his own standing.
Power? He wasn’t inferior to the Dalton heir.
If this had been a business deal, Richard could have listed his advantages, calculated the risks, and devised a strategy to win.
But Isobel wasn’t a business deal.
Her heart wasn’t something he could acquire through persistence, wealth, or sheer determination.
And Alexander wasn’t a rival he could defeat.
The boy hadn’t done anything wrong. He was innocent, too young to understand the complicated emotions of the adults around him. He deserved to be loved, protected, and cherished.
Richard knew that.
He would never resent the child for being loved by his mother.
But he couldn’t deny the jealousy that tightened around his heart.
He was jealous of a one-year-old boy who could fall asleep in Isobel’s arms without having to earn the privilege.
Jealous of the little hands that could reach for her and be met with immediate affection.
Jealous of the person who could make Isobel drop everything simply by crying.
It was an ugly emotion, and Richard despised himself for feeling it.
But the truth was there, undeniable and painful.
He wasn’t jealous because Alexander had taken something away from him.
He was jealous because Alexander had a place in Isobel’s life.
And the worst part? Alexander would always come first. As he should.
Richard lowered his phone, staring at his reflection in the darkened screen.
He had faced difficult negotiations, ruthless competitors, and men who would gladly destroy him for the chance to take what he had built.
None of them had ever made him feel as powerless as a woman who had never promised him anything.
He had always believed that if he wanted something badly enough, he could find a way to obtain it.
Isobel was teaching him how wrong he could be.
He couldn’t force her to love him, the way he wanted to.
He couldn’t ask her to choose him over the father of her child.
For the first time, Richard wondered whether his patience had been courage or cowardice.
Had he been giving Isobel time to recognize his feelings?
Or had he simply been hiding behind the safety of their friendship, too afraid to risk the one relationship he already had with her?
He had waited because he feared rejection.
Now, another man was bold enough to kneel before her and ask for forever.
Richard had no idea whether Isobel would eventually accept Kristoff. The proposal might lead to nothing. Their relationship might falter. The future was still uncertain.
Yet the photograph had revealed something Richard could no longer ignore.
Kristoff was willing to fight for a future with Isobel.
Richard had spent so long being afraid of losing her that he had never truly fought for one.
He inhaled deeply, trying to ease the ache in his chest.
It didn’t help.
His gaze drifted back to the picture of Isobel holding Alexander.
You really are my greatest rival, aren’t you?
For a moment, the corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless smile.
His greatest rival wasn’t Kristoff Dalton.
Not the diamond ring.
Not even the possibility of a wedding.
It was the little boy in Isobel’s arms.
Alexander.
The one person Richard could never compete against, never defeat, and never ask Isobel to love less.
He locked his phone and rested his head against the seat, closing his eyes.
He had always thought heartbreak would come with a dramatic ending—a rejection, a farewell, a door closing between him and the woman he loved.
He hadn’t expected it to arrive through a photograph.
Three people smiling together.
One man who belonged beside her.
And another nestled comfortably against her chest.