Theo stared at the child, but there was no rush of fatherly warmth. Instead, he looked at the boy with a sickening sense of dread.
To Theo, this child wasn't a 'miracle' or a 'gift.' This boy was a physical scar. He was a living, breathing reminder of the nights he spent rotting in the Lower Ward, of the woman he didn't love who jumped him when he was at his lowest, and of the lie that had just shattered his peace with Alias.
He looked at the boy's blue eyes—his eyes—and felt a wave of resentment so sharp it made him want to retch. This child was the 'stain' he had tried so hard to scrub away, and he was here to stay.
"It was a mistake," he said and then stood up slowly, his legs feeling like lead.
He looked at Maya, then at Alias, and finally at the boy, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"But it was a mistake I made. And mistakes do not just go away with lies. I will own up to my mistake."
