Undressed By His Arrogance

Tom dragged a hand down his face, frustration seeping out of every pore. "What if the doctor seeing her now notices the difference in the pills?"

Morgana laughed softly—once. "And you’re calling me dumb," she said, shaking her head. "No one can see the difference, Tom. No one. I replaced them with the same medicine. The only difference is in the grams. It’s simple." She waved a dismissive hand. "Barely detectable unless you’re looking for it—and no one is."

"How can you be this calm?" he demanded.

"Because panic doesn’t solve problems," she replied evenly. "And because someone in this relationship has to think clearly."

"Also, I am a very smart, very brilliant woman. And why wouldn’t I be calm?" Morgana said coolly, lifting her chin. "I didn’t do anything." Her lips curved faintly.

"They are on to me," he said. He dragged both hands through his hair, dislodging the neat order. "I know they are on to me. Everything worked out as planned—everything—but I didn’t factor in Sylvia being there. I knew Sharona was going to go off the deep end. That was the plan. Push her, make her paranoid enough to make a mistake and get caught. Then she’s out of the equation." He began ticking points off on his fingers. "Sylvia is dead. Sharona is in the wind. And Tim is back."

"Tim is back?" Morgana repeated, the first real crack appearing in her composure. Her brows drew together, her body angling subtly toward him as if the words themselves had shifted the balance of power.

"Oh, didn’t I tell you?" Tom said, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. "Yes. He’s back."

"What is he doing back?" she asked, carefully.

"How the hell am I supposed to know? How? He just showed up like a bad penny. Like he never left. He promised never to come back."

Morgana exhaled slowly, her mind already racing ahead of him. "If Tim is back," she said, "then we have a problem. Because if Anna goes the same way as your father, Tim will smell something fishy."

That did it.

Tom threw his hands in the air, pacing again, agitation spilling over. "Now you’re interested," he snapped. "Oh, I’m so glad I finally have your attention."

"On the other hand," Morgana continued, "your father died ages ago. Ancient history. I’m sure the details will be fuzzy for him. Memory is a funny thing. It erodes."

"You’re sure?" he shot back. "You want to bet the rest of your life on that?"

Morgana smiled. "Again, sweetie," she said, "quit it with the threats. I didn’t do anything. Unless you want your kids to grow up without a parent, you won’t even mention my name. Ever." Her smile widened. "Tom Kane’s kids in foster care? Now that would make headlines."

She laughed and pushed herself up from the chair. "Whew! Sit down. You look like you’re about to give yourself a stroke. I’ll make you dinner."

Tom turned away, jaw clenched, swallowing every curse he wanted to hurl at her. Arguing would get him nowhere. She was right—and that was the most infuriating part. She had him. She knew it.

Crazy as she was—brilliant, ruthless, terrifying—he loved her. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Or the kids. They were his real family.

*****

Mary knelt beside the tub, sleeves rolled up, as she guided Ivy’s hands. "Support her head like this," she murmured softly. "She likes the water warm, not hot. And talk to her—it helps."

Ivy nodded, eyes glossy as she carefully dipped the washcloth into the water. Elizabeth kicked happily, splashing tiny droplets onto Ivy’s shirt, her soft coos filling the bathroom with a fragile, miraculous normalcy. Ivy laughed shakily. "She’s...she’s perfect," she whispered. "I can’t believe I missed all this."

The moment was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening—voices, footsteps.

In the living room, Winn was already on his feet as Sam, Evans, and Irene stepped inside. Sam leaned heavily on his cane, his sharp eyes taking everything in at once.

"Where is she? Where is Elizabeth?" Sam asked. "I want to see my great-granddaughter. I want to see her now."

"She’s having a bath," he said, nodding toward the hallway. "They’ll be out in a bit. Ivy’s... easing into it."

"So she is really alive?" Sam asked.

Winn didn’t trust his voice for a moment, so he simply nodded.

"Oh... oh dear Lord." Sam’s knees seemed to give out all at once. He sank heavily into the nearest chair, cane clattering to the floor as he dragged a hand down his face. "Alive," he whispered, a laugh and a sob tangling in his chest. "All this time... alive."

"Let me help you with that," Evans said quickly to Irene, who was standing stiffly nearby with a large overnight bag clutched in one hand.

"I can manage," Irene snapped, shooting him a glare. She huffed loudly, turned on her heel, and marched down the hallway.

Evans watched her go, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well," he muttered under his breath, "that is going well."

He dropped into the armchair closest to Winn.

"Icy on all sides, uhn?" Winn drawled, glancing sideways at him, one brow lifting as he took in Evans’s tense posture, the tight jaw, the way his eyes kept flicking toward the hallway Irene had disappeared down.

"Frigid."

"Good," Winn replied flatly. "I’d have you gutted already if you weren’t my baby’s grand-uncle. Small price to pay for all the shit you have pulled so far."

"Great. Just great. We don’t even get a thank you—just judgement left, right, and centre. Fantastic."

"You want a thank you?" Sam cut in sharply, pushing himself upright in the chair, color flooding back into his face. "You want a thank you?" He jabbed a finger toward Evans. "You kept something this huge from all of us!"

"I protected her! From Tom. From Sharona. From this entire goddamn mess."

"And from her mother?" Winn asked quietly.

"I told Mary! I kept someone in the loop," Evans defended himself, pushing up from the armchair. His hands moved restlessly as he spoke, palms opening and closing in agitation.

"You kept her in the loop because you needed a babysitter you could trust," Sam shot back immediately. "You made a calculated choice, and you know it."

"I made a necessary one," Evans retorted, jaw tightening. "You taught me that."

Sam scoffed. "I taught you how to protect family, not how to lie to them."

Their voices overlapped, words ricocheting. Old grievances bled into new ones—decisions questioned, motives dissected.

Then Ivy walked in.

"Hey, guys!" she announced brightly. Elizabeth was nestled against her chest, freshly bathed, wrapped in a soft blanket, her dark eyes wide and curious. Mary and Irene followed behind her. "Happy faces! Happy faces please," Ivy added with a strained laugh, her eyes flicking pointedly between Sam and Evans.

The argument died mid-sentence.

Sam turned, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe.

"Oh my world... oh my world..." he whispered, reverence flooding his features as he pushed himself upright with the help of his cane. "I didn’t think I would live to see this day. My first great-grandchild."

Winn saw it—the exact moment it happened. The precise second Elizabeth had Sam Everest wrapped around her tiny finger without even touching him. It was in the way Sam’s stern shoulders softened, how his eyes misted over, how his entire body leaned toward her as if pulled by gravity. Winn recognized it because only hours earlier, he himself had been undone the same way. By a grip. By a gaze.

Sam reached out slowly as if afraid she might vanish. "May I?" he asked Ivy.

Ivy nodded. "Of course, Gramps."

When Elizabeth was placed into Sam’s arms, his breath hitched. "Well," he murmured hoarsely, "aren’t you something."

Winn smiled to himself.

He watched as Mary hovered nearby, eyes glossy, hands clasped together, pride and guilt warring on her face. Irene stood a little apart, arms still folded. Evans lingered awkwardly, rubbing his hands together, caught between relief and the certainty that he was still very much in trouble.

And yet, despite everything—the anger, the secrets, the betrayals—they all gravitated inward. Toward the baby. Toward each other.

This was the kind of family Winn wanted. Not perfect. Not clean. But real. The kind where love was visible in your eyes even when you were furious. Where grudges existed, but so did gravity—pulling everyone back together around the smallest, most important thing.

He stood just behind the Everests, hands in his pockets, watching as a little Kane was welcomed into the fold.

Sam turned to Winn just then and pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you...thank you," Sam said.

"I didn’t do anything," Winn replied automatically, stiff at first, then slowly relaxing into the embrace.

"Nonsense," Sam scoffed, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. "You made sure I see the third generation before I die. That alone makes you a damn miracle worker. I just don’t want to know the details of how you knocked her up." He waved a dismissive hand.