Updated Feb 23, 2026 • ~9 min read
POV: Dominic
Five weeks into Valencia’s employment, Dominic is working from the park.
This is not standard billionaire behavior—most CEOs don’t conduct video meetings from Central Park benches while their son plays on nearby playground equipment—but Dominic has learned that being present matters more than being in an office.
Valencia taught him that.
He’s on a call with his development team about the new AI platform when he hears Valencia laugh.
That laugh.
The one that’s become the soundtrack to his life over the past five weeks.
The one that makes this penthouse feel less like a mausoleum and more like a home.
The one he thinks about more than he should.
Dominic glances up from his laptop to see Valencia chasing Jules around the playground equipment, both playing some elaborate game involving her being a monster and Jules running away with silent giggles.
Jules looks happy.
Actually happy.
Not just content or calm, but genuinely joyful in a way Dominic hasn’t seen since before Amelie died.
“Mr. St. Clair? Did you catch that last part?”
His CTO’s voice pulls him back to the call.
“Sorry, Kenji. Repeat the benchmarks?”
They finish the meeting—successful demo, client impressed, everyone pleased—and Dominic closes his laptop to fully watch Valencia and Jules.
She’s so good with him.
Patient when he’s frustrated, encouraging when he’s scared, playful when he needs joy.
Exactly what Jules needs.
Exactly what Dominic needs.
That last thought is dangerous territory.
Professional boundaries, he reminds himself.
Employee.
Boss.
Nothing more.
(He’s lying to himself, but it’s a comfortable lie by now.)
“Daddy!”
Dominic freezes.
That was—
No.
His imagination.
Jules hasn’t spoken in—
“Daddy! Look!”
Dominic’s head snaps up so fast he nearly drops his laptop.
Jules is at the top of the climbing structure, waving, mouth definitely moving, sound definitely coming out—
Wait.
That’s not Jules.
Just another child who happens to be calling for their father.
Dominic’s heart rate returns to normal.
False alarm.
Wishful thinking.
He’s so desperate to hear his son’s voice that he’s hallucinating it now.
Valencia waves Jules over. “Want to try the big slide?”
Jules nods enthusiastically.
They head to the tallest slide in the playground—the one Jules has been working up courage to attempt for weeks.
Dominic stands, walks closer, professional supervision transitioning to parental concern.
Jules climbs the ladder.
Carefully.
Methodically.
Valencia standing at the bottom with her arms out, ready to catch if needed, encouraging with every step: “You’ve got this! One more rung! So brave!”
Jules reaches the top.
Stands there, looking down at the slide, then at Valencia, clearly nervous.
Valencia calls up: “You don’t have to go if you’re not ready! We can try another time!”
But Jules is determined.
Dominic can see it in the set of his small shoulders, the way he’s gripping the railings.
Jules sits at the top of the slide.
Takes a breath.
Pushes off—
And loses his balance halfway down.
Not badly.
Just enough that he lands wrong at the bottom, scraping his knee on the rubber playground surface.
And for the first time in thirteen months, Jules opens his mouth and SCREAMS.
“OW!”
Actual sound.
Actual voice.
Actual word.
Dominic’s frozen, laptop forgotten, not breathing.
Jules is crying—loudly, vocally, CRYING with sound—and Valencia’s already there, already scooping him up, already checking the scrape.
“You’re okay, buddy! Just a little scrape! You’re so brave!”
Jules is sobbing into her shoulder—actual sobs with actual sound, tears and hiccups and the most beautiful noise Dominic’s ever heard because his son is MAKING NOISE.
“You’re SO brave, Jules!” Valencia’s saying, rocking him gently. “That was a big fall and you handled it so well!”
And Jules pulls back, looks at her with tear-filled eyes, and says:
“Val.”
The world stops.
Valencia gasps.
Dominic stumbles, catches himself on a bench.
“What did you—” Valencia’s shaking. “Jules, did you just—”
“Val,” Jules says again, testing the word, tasting it. “Val. Val. VAL!”
He’s speaking.
He’s SPEAKING.
After thirteen months of silence, after countless therapists and specialists and interventions, after Dominic had started to accept that maybe Jules would never speak again—
He’s speaking.
And his first word is Valencia’s name.
Not Daddy.
Not Mommy.
Val.
Dominic should be hurt by that.
Should feel some kind of jealousy that his son’s first word after trauma is for the nanny instead of his father.
Instead he feels nothing but overwhelming joy and gratitude and love for the woman who made this possible.
“Oh my god,” Valencia whispers, tears streaming down her face. “Jules, you’re talking! You’re using your voice!”
“Val!” Jules says again, like he’s discovered something magical. “Val, it hurt!”
“I know, sweetheart. But you’re okay. Do you want a bandaid?”
“Yes! Bandaid! Val, bandaid!”
He’s speaking in sentences.
Not just one word.
Actual communication.
Like a switch flipped and suddenly he remembers how.
Dominic finds himself moving toward them on autopilot, kneeling beside where Valencia’s sitting on the ground with Jules in her lap.
Jules turns to him—
“Daddy! I fell!”
Dominic’s vision blurs.
His son.
His son is talking to him.
“I saw, buddy. You were so brave.”
“I was brave! Val said so! Val says I’m brave!”
Jules is babbling now—months of pent-up words flooding out, tripping over themselves, excited and loud and the most perfect sound in the universe.
“You ARE brave,” Dominic manages, voice cracking. “So brave. And you’re talking! Do you know how amazing that is?”
“I’m talking! Listen, Daddy! I can talk! Val, I’m talking!”
“You are!” Valencia’s crying and laughing simultaneously, holding Jules close. “You found your voice again! I’m so proud of you!”
Dominic meets Valencia’s eyes over Jules’s head.
She’s radiant with joy, tears on her cheeks, smiling so wide it must hurt.
And Dominic thinks: I love her.
Not just attracted to.
Not just grateful for.
Love.
Complete, overwhelming, terrifying love.
The realization hits like a physical impact.
He loves Valencia Rivera.
Loves how she healed his son.
Loves how she makes their home feel alive.
Loves how she looks at Jules like he’s precious.
Loves how she challenged Dominic to be better, to be present, to try.
Loves her.
Completely.
Impossibly.
Inappropriately.
“Thank you,” Dominic says, voice rough with emotion. “Valencia, thank you. You gave him his voice back.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Valencia protests. “He did this. He was ready.”
“You made him ready. You made him feel safe enough to try.”
They’re both crying now, both kneeling in playground mulch, both holding Jules who’s still talking a mile a minute about his scrape and how brave he is and can he have TWO bandaids because it’s a really big owie.
And Dominic does something he shouldn’t.
Reaches out.
Cups Valencia’s face with one hand.
Wipes her tears with his thumb.
“Thank you,” he says again. “For everything.”
Valencia’s breath catches.
She’s looking at him like—
Like she feels it too.
This impossible thing between them.
This connection that goes beyond professional courtesy.
This love that neither of them can acknowledge but both feel.
“Dominic—” she whispers.
“I know. I know we can’t. But—”
“DADDY!” Jules interrupts, tugging on Dominic’s sleeve. “Can we get ice cream? Val says ice cream makes owies better!”
The moment breaks.
Dominic pulls back, clears his throat, returns to being just the father and definitely not the man who almost confessed his feelings in the middle of Central Park.
“Ice cream sounds perfect,” Dominic agrees. “For all of us. We’re celebrating.”
“Celebrating!” Jules repeats. “I’m TALKING, Daddy! I’m using my VOICE!”
“You absolutely are, buddy.”
They pack up—Dominic’s laptop, Valencia’s bag, Jules’s toys—and walk to the ice cream shop three blocks away, Jules chattering the entire way about everything he’s been unable to say for thirteen months.
“And I like the swings! And the slide even though I fell! And painting! Val and I paint together! Daddy, did you know I like painting? I do! I like it SO MUCH! And dinosaurs! I still like dinosaurs! Val reads me dinosaur books! Do you like dinosaurs, Daddy?”
“I do,” Dominic says, throat tight with joy. “Tell me your favorite.”
“T-Rex! Because they’re BIG and LOUD! RAWR!” Jules demonstrates with the most adorable roar in human history.
People on the sidewalk smile at them.
A family, they must think.
Father, mother, child.
Happy.
Whole.
It’s an illusion.
Valencia isn’t Jules’s mother.
Isn’t Dominic’s partner.
Is just the nanny who happened to be magical enough to break through trauma that multiple specialists couldn’t touch.
But for this afternoon, walking to get ice cream while Jules discovers the joy of verbal communication again, Dominic lets himself pretend.
Lets himself imagine a world where this is real.
Where Valencia stays.
Where they’re actually a family.
Where loving her isn’t impossible.
At the ice cream shop, Jules orders himself (“Chocolate! With sprinkles! PLEASE!”) and Valencia gets strawberry and Dominic gets coffee because he’s predictable.
They sit at a tiny table meant for kids while Jules talks and talks and talks.
“Val, this is the BEST ice cream! Daddy, did you try Val’s? It’s pink! I like pink now! And blue! And green! What’s your favorite color, Val?”
“Purple,” Valencia says, smiling. “What’s yours?”
“Red! Like T-Rex! Or maybe blue! Or yellow! All the colors! Because colors are pretty! You’re pretty, Val!”
Valencia blushes. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“Daddy, isn’t Val pretty?”
Dominic nearly chokes on his coffee.
“Yes,” he says, meeting Valencia’s eyes across the table. “She’s very pretty.”
Valencia’s blush deepens.
Jules, oblivious to the tension, continues his monologue about ice cream and colors and everything he’s been storing up for over a year.
And Dominic sits there, watching his son bloom, watching Valencia glow with pride, and thinks:
This.
This is everything.
This is what happiness looks like after grief.
This is healing.
This is hope.
This is love.
Even if he can’t have it.
Even if it’s inappropriate and impossible and definitely going to end badly.
For now, it’s enough.
His son is speaking.
Valencia is here.
They’re together.
And Dominic’s fallen completely, hopelessly, inappropriately in love with his son’s nanny.
Starting today.
Starting with Jules’s first word.
Starting with the realization that there’s no going back.
Forever changed.
Reader Reactions