Eight years later
Jolie stared at the three-month-old baby in her arms and looked to Brix with a smirk. “Told you so.”
“Hey, I believed you. The Cacciola nose doesn’t lie.” He stroked the dark-haired baby latched to his wife’s chest and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Hey Dad,” Pia barged into their office, dragging her six-year-old sister behind her, “you need to keep her out of my stuff. She was in my make-up.”
“You’re too young for makeup.” Brix shot out.
“I’m thirteen, and fourteen next month.”
“I said sixteen.”
“Dad said thirteen,” she threw Malik under the bus.
“He said thirteen when you were six. He didn’t know better.”
“It’s not the point,” she folded her arms over her chest the exact way her two fathers did. “This demon keeps getting into my stuff. Today was my makeup. Y
