The wind in Central Park bit through coats, but the playground was full of life. Victoria Vance sat on a bench, her eyes fixed on Leo, who was climbing the jungle gym with the reckless abandon of a child who finally felt safe.
“He has good balance,” a woman said, sitting on the other end of the bench.
Victoria turned. The stranger was striking–dark hair, intelligent eyes, and a hand resting protectively over the slight curve of a pregnancy hidden beneath a wool coat. It was Isabella Moretti, the “Catalyst” from London, though Victoria didn’t know her name.
“He gets it from his father,” Victoria admitted, her voice tinged with the complexity of her new reality. “His father is… rebuilding his balance, too.”
“I know the feeling,” Isabella sighed, looking out at the skyline where Croft Tower loomed. “I’m carrying a child for a man who thinks the world is something you have to conquer, not live in. I came here to save him, but I think the city has already swallowed him whole.”
Victoria smiled sadly. “I spent a long time trying to save a man like that. Just be careful. The ‘White Knights’ sometimes build cages instead of castles.”
The two women sat in silence, watching the children run. They shared a profound sense of isolation–neither realizing they could be sisters-in-law, bonding over the wreckage caused by the Croft twins.