One good thing about the timing of his release from prison was that Scott could make his daughter Cassie’s birthday party. He debated calling his ex-wife, Maggie, ahead of time but figured it would cause trouble, so he waited until a little after lunchtime and then just walked in the front door of Maggie’s house—well, technically her fiancé Paxton’s house. It was madness, exactly the way a house full of kids celebrating a birthday should be. Balloons, loud music, screaming—and there she was, little Cassie, running down the hall toward him, shouting, “Daddy!”

“Peanut!” He dropped to his knees to scoop her into a big hug. “Happy birthday! I’m so sorry I’m late; I didn’t know what time your party started.”

“It was on the invitation!” she said, like he was the world’s biggest doofus.

Then the complications started as Paxton—a big, muscular cop with no patience for his fiancé’s ex‑husband—appeared and said, “He didn’t get an invitation.” He shot a look at Scott. “But he came anyway.” Paxton tried to keep his tone chipper, but Scott could tell he wasn’t welcome.

“Well, I’m not going to miss my little girl’s birthday party,” he said to both of them.

“I’m gonna go tell Mommy you’re here!” Cassie said, and dashed off.

“Oh, you don’t...” Scott gave up. She’d find out sooner or later.

Paxton came up close. Too close. If they were in prison, Paxton would have been starting a fight. Scott had to suppress those prison instincts, though. He was back in the real world. Would have been nice to take a swing at Paxton, though. “What are you doing here, Lang?” he said. “You haven’t paid a dime in child support. You know, right now if I wanted to, I could arrest you.”

“Good to see you too, Paxton.” Scott didn’t want to make a scene in front of his daughter. Also, Paxton was technically correct. The other thing was that, even though he still loved Maggie, Scott knew Paxton was a fundamentally decent guy—for a cop—and was looking out for Maggie and Cassie in his way.

Cassie charged back into the room. “Mommy’s so happy you’re here, she choked on her drink,” she said, and cracked up.

“Hey, look what I have for you.” Scott handed her a gift bag.

“Can I open it now?” Cassie asked—but she asked Paxton, not Scott. That stung.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Paxton said. “It’s your birthday.”

From the bag Cassie took the ugliest stuffed rabbit in the history of planet Earth. She squeezed it accidentally and it rasped out, “You’re my bestest friend!”

Taken aback, Paxton said, “What is that thing?”

Cassie had a different reaction. “He’s so ugly! I love him! Can I go show my friends?”

Paxton nodded. “Yeah, of course, sweetheart. Go ahead.”

“You’re my bestest friend!” the rabbit said again as she zipped off into the kitchen.

“Look,” Scott said quietly. “The child support is coming, all right? It’s just hard finding a job when you have a record.”

Still facing him down, Paxton said, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, but for now, I want you out of my house.”

“No way, it’s my daughter’s birthday!”

“It’s my house!” Paxton said, his voice rising a notch.

Scott matched him. “So what? It’s my kid!”

“Relax!” Maggie called as she came into the room. She didn’t look happy to see Scott. “You can’t just show up here. You know that; come on.”

“It’s a birthday party.”

He could tell she didn’t care. “Yeah, I know, but you can’t just show up.”

“She’s my daughter.” Didn’t that matter? Scott knew he’d made some mistakes, but, man, what about second chances?

“You don’t know the first thing about being a father,” Paxton said.

Scott took a deep breath. Then, not looking at Paxton, he said, “Maggie, I tell you this as a friend and as the first love of my life: Your fiancé is a butthead.”

“He’s not a butthead,” she objected.

Paxton chimed in. “Hey, watch your language.”

“Oh, what language? I said ‘head.’”

Scott would never have figured Maggie to get together with a prudish cop. But then again, Paxton was about as different from him as a man could be, so maybe that explained it.

She half guided, half pushed Scott out the door and shut it behind them.

“Really, Maggie? That guy?” Scott said when Paxton and Cassie were out of earshot. “Come on, you could marry anyone you want—you have to get engaged to a cop?”

“At least he’s not a crook,” she said evenly.

“I’m trying, okay? I’ve changed, uh...” She just looked at him, not buying it. Scott needed her to believe him. All he could tell her was the truth, knowing that every ex‑con said the same things and he hadn’t exactly given her any reason to trust him over the past few years. “I’m straight, I had a job, and...​I want to provide. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I love her. So much. I’ve missed so much time and I want to be a part of her life. What do I do?”

After a pause, Maggie said, “Get an apartment. Get a job, pay child support. And then we will talk about visitation, I promise.” Something unclenched in Scott’s chest. There was a chance. “You’re her hero, Scott,” Maggie added. “Just be the person she already thinks you are.”

Right , he thought. I can do that. I will do that.

Cassie, with Paxton right behind her, came out to wave good-bye as Scott got in Luis’s van and headed off, honking the van’s goofy musical horn and shooting Cassie a wink. She laughed. Paxton did not.

Darren Cross thought the presentation had gone almost perfectly. He’d already made a deal for the Yellowjacket—for a lot of money. Mitchell Carson wanted the system badly. Also, Cross had shown Hank Pym that he was the future of the business. Pym’s secret was out, at least within the company, and Cross was in control. The only hiccup was Frank’s reluctance to get on board. Cross liked Frank, and valued him as an engineering consultant, but they needed to have a conversation.

So he walked into the executive washroom after the meeting had broken up and caught Frank washing his hands. “I’m sorry you have such deep concerns about the Yellowjacket, Frank.”

“Yeah, well, uh, unfortunately we can’t just do whatever we want,” Frank said. “Would be nice though, right? But there are laws.”

“What laws? Of man?” Cross realized that Frank really didn’t understand what the Yellowjacket project meant. So he explained it a little. “The laws of nature transcend the laws of man. And I’ve transcended the laws of nature.” He realized he was standing between Frank and the trash can, so Cross reached out and took the paper towel Frank had used to dry his hands.

“Darren, I don’t think you understand,” Frank said, but Cross had heard enough.

He’d designed a handheld version of the miniaturization technology and thought this might be the one that finally worked on a human subject. God knew he’d shrunk just about everything else with it already. Cross touched a button and a small electrical arc snapped out to touch Frank’s chest.

Frank disappeared...​and, looking down at the floor, Darren Cross realized the miniaturizer wasn’t quite fully functional yet. “We still haven’t worked out all the bugs,” he apologized, and bent down with the paper towel to clean up the mess. “Good-bye, Frank.”

You couldn’t run a company like Cross Technologies without having everyone on board, he thought. That was just the way things were.

He had a dinner engagement with Hope that night, and thought he would use it to make sure she was completely on board, too. zHNAT8C+k9FV9mUII8i8SWbFHUrCWjHTo4j/vbN6DQhD8Ehxq84Pp/Z9y4XkVk81