The Moral Dilemma (War of Sins Book 5)
The Moral Dilemma: Chapter 35

THE SUNLIGHT FILTERS through the sheer curtains. I stretch in bed as I slowly open my eyes, a smile on my lips as I think of the wonderful dream I had.

Yet as I look to my side, I’m shocked to realize it hadn’t been a dream.

I blink once. Twice. My breathing intensifies just as my heart beats faster in my chest.

God! She’s here. She’s real. My little girl is alive and here with me.

She’s sleeping peacefully, and once more I’m struck by how beautiful she is. Careful not to wake her up, I brush my lips across her cheek.

The light noise from the kitchen tells me Raf must have woken up early to fill the fridge.

I tip-toe around the room, heading to the kitchen to replace him making pancakes.

When he spots me, his lips stretch into a dazzling smile.

“Good morning,” he murmurs as he leans to give me a kiss.

“Morning,” I whisper back, unable to stop my own grin. “So it’s real. It’s not a dream.”

“That was my fear when I woke up as well.”

“Oh, Raf. I can’t even explain what I’m feeling. It’s…”

“I know.” He nods. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“We have a child. A beautiful daughter,” I continue, tears sparkling in my eyes. I don’t think I’m ever not getting emotional over this—the biggest blessing of my life.

Turning off the stove, he wraps his arms around my waist, hugging me from behind.

“She’s so bold and smart. Just like you,” he whispers.

“She is, isn’t she? I can’t believe how easily she got used to us.”

“I think it’s going to be harder for us to get used to it, since neither of us knows how to behave with a child,” he releases a sigh. “But we’ll manage it.”

“I’m just happy she’s so comfortable with us. Lucero is the best for how she brought her up, telling her about us and getting her to love us already. She’s… God, Raf. I feel so guilty for not trusting her when she did everything she could for Malia.”

“We’ll be forever in her debt,” he adds.

I nod, leaning into him.

“I’m a little scared.” I muster the courage to confess.

“What do you mean?” He frowns.

“I… I don’t know how to be a mother. What if I do it wrong?” I whisper in uncertainty.

“I don’t know how to be a father either, pretty girl. Yet I feel like one. The moment I saw that little girl, I knew in my heart that she was mine—that she was ours. I only had to lay eyes on her and I already loved her.”

“Me too.” I smile. “She’s impossible not to love.”

“We’ll take it one day at a time and learn how to be her parents. But I saw you with her. You can’t go wrong with how gentle and soft you are with her.”

“Thank you,” I say, turning around to face him.

I wind my arms around his neck just as he raises me onto the table. Staring into his eyes, I brush my lips across him lightly before he deepens the kiss. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I bring him into me, rubbing myself all over him.

“Mommy, Daddy!” The sound of her sweet voice echoes in the house, and we both scramble to our feet in an attempt to look presentable.

“In here, baby,” I call out.

She dashes towards us, a big smile on her face.

“Smells good,” she says as she tries to peer at the table.

“Your Daddy made us pancakes.”

“Really? I love pancakes,” she exclaims.

Raf helps her onto a chair while I put a couple of pancakes onto her plate.

We all start eating, making small talk—or, rather, listening to Malia as she speaks. She’s so energetic and talkative that I can’t help but stare in awe at her.

She tells us about her favorite cartoons and games, and what her favorite pastimes are. Both Raf and I listen raptly, taking notes to make sure we get everything for her.

“You didn’t bring any toys. Would you like to go buy some?”

“No,” she states. “Toys are for kids,” she answers with a straight face.

Raf and I look at each other in confusion.

“You’re a kid, too,” I remark gently.

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she humphs out loud.

“You’re superheroes. Then I’m a super kid, too.” She points out as if we should have already known that.

“Oh. That’s right.” Raf nods. “But even super kids play. You can get a super toy, how does that sound?”

She’s pensive for a moment.

“Maybe a doll,” she eventually says.

“Whatever you want, baby. You know you can have anything, no?”

She blinks, studying us for a moment. A smile spreads on her face as she nods.

We continue eating and Raf and I share a look. It seems that for all her boldness, our little girl is wary about not being special enough for us.

After we’re done with our breakfast, Raf stays behind to clean up while I help Malia change into a new outfit for our trip upstate. I don’t know how, but Raf managed to convince a real estate agent to show us some houses last minute.

“What dress do you want to wear, baby?” I lay out all her dresses on the bed, letting her choose. She goes straight to a black one with red polka dots, proving that she is in fact my daughter.

I grin at the irony.

“So, you like black?”

She nods vigorously, and once her dress is on, she does a little pirouette.

I rummage through my closet and replace a dress that’s the most similar to hers and I put it on. When she sees that we match, she comes to my side, jumping up and down.

“We’re the same,” she exclaims excitedly—although, it does seem that her default mode is to be excited about anything and everything.

Once we’re all ready and dressed, we head down to the parking lot where I am surprised to see a new car—one with a child’s seat, too.

I turn to look at Raf, and he gives me a sheepish smile.

“I got up early.” He shrugs.

“What didn’t you think of?” I ask in wonder.

He got food, made breakfast, secured a real estate agent, and now he even got us a new car.

“Malia’s right. You are a superman.” I wink at him.

“Yes!” Malia promptly agrees.

Raf gets behind the wheel while Malia and I take a seat in the back. We drive for an hour and a half before we reach the spot where the agent is waiting for us. Surprisingly, Malia responds well to being in a car, and we spend the entire drive chatting and laughing.

My little girl has a lot of energy, just as she has a lot of opinions. We realize that pretty early on when Raf tries to play some music, which Malia strongly objects to. Raf switches the music about ten times before we replace something that Malia likes. But the funniest bit is when we ask her why she doesn’t like it.

“Sounds bad.” She just shrugs.

“Maybe we have another musical prodigy on our hands,” Raf jokes.

“Who knows.” I smile.

Somehow, halfway into our drive, Malia gets out of her seat and climbs on my lap, laying her head on my chest and wrapping her arms around my neck.

I hold her tightly, basking in this moment of pure happiness.

When we arrive, Raf parks the car and we meet with the agent who tells us he has five houses to show us.

“This was a little too short notice. If you’d like to wait…”

“We’ll see the available ones,” Raf interrupts.

The agent nods and takes us to the first house. Although modern and quite spacious, we aren’t impressed. Most of all, we wait for a reaction from Malia since this will be her home. If she likes it, then that’s it.

We see the second, then the third, and it’s still not something we are very keen on.

It’s only when we reach the fourth house for sale that Malia dashes into the courtyard, pointing excitedly at the pool. Even more surprisingly, the house has an indoor pool as well, and Raf gives me a knowing smile.

“There’s also a conservatory in the back, a cinema room, a gym…” the realtor drones on, checking everything off on my list.

“We’ll take it,” Raf blurts out.

We haven’t even completed the tour, so the agent is surprised at the conviction in his voice.

“You haven’t heard the price,” the man stumbles over his words.

“It can’t be that bad,” Raf says dismissively—until we hear the price tag that is.

Five million. All those features don’t come cheap, I guess.

“We’ll take it,” I repeat. “My trust fund should cover it,” I whisper to Raf.

“Don’t worry about it, pretty girl.”

“I found my room, Mommy,” Malia says as she takes my hand, leading me up the stairs to the first floor. There’s a big room with an arch in the middle that seemingly divides it into two smaller rooms. There is an en-suite bathroom at the end, as well as a small balcony with a direct view to the pool. I can immediately envision how it would look when we furnish it—one side with her bed, and the other with her toys.

“It’s perfect, baby.”

While Malia continues to gush about her room, Raf calls me to the end of the hallway to check out the master suite.

“Oh, wow,” I stop at the entrance, my eyes wide in wonder. “Makes sense why it’s five million,” I mutter under my breath.

The entire suite is the size of our condo. There is a living room that leads into a huge bedroom. Just like Malia’s room, this one has a balcony at the end, but it’s almost triple in size. Yet what takes my breath away is the bathroom.

There’s a tub in the middle of the room, so big it looks like a jacuzzi. There’s a glass shower in the back, right next to what looks to be a two-person sauna.

“This is insane…”

“I agree.” Raf smiles. “Do you see yourself living here, pretty girl?”

“Are you kidding me? When can we move in?”

Malia races after us, and Raf takes her into his arms as he shows her around the room. I trail behind, still in awe at the house. When I’d told Raf my requirements, I was definitely exaggerating. But this? This has everything I could have asked for and more.

But most importantly? All of us love it.

After we tour the entire property, we settle with the realtor to close the deal as soon as possible, and he surprises us by saying that we can move in starting next week.

“I think now we need to go shopping for things to decorate the house with,” I add as we go to the car.

“Can I get a pet, Mommy?”

“A pet?” I blink, remembering Lovely—not that I’m ever going to see him again since Michele decided it was his dog now.

“Yes. I want a cat. A fluffy cat.”

“I think we can manage that, can’t we?” Raf grins at us.

I shake my head at him. I can already foresee he’s going to be the type of father that will not be able to say no to his baby girl. Not that I’m better myself.

Ah, lucky Malia. She’s going to be quite the spoiled princess.

“A fluffy cat it is,” I laugh.