“Sweetheart,” Eleanor Cross said smoothly, “choose your new father. Pick one of these men. They’re influential, wealthy, and can give you the life you deserve.”
A few executives exchanged amused looks. Some even smirked.
Everyone expected the girl to point at one of the faces—CEOs, financiers, political figures.
But Ava didn’t.
She studied the photos briefly… then lifted her head and looked past the table, toward the far corner of the room.
A man was mopping the floor there. The janitor. The only person who had smiled at her that morning.
She raised her finger.
“I choose Daniel.”
A wave of shocked gasps swept the room.
Eleanor blinked, certain she’d misheard. “Ava, darling,” she said, forcing a tight smile, “you misunderstood. These men are leaders. Investors. Senators.”
Ava’s voice stayed calm. “Daniel already gives me everything.”
Every head turned.
Daniel Brooks froze, his hands tightening around the mop handle. He’d been pretending to clean the same tile for over a minute, hoping to disappear.
Eleanor’s expression hardened. “He scrubs floors. That’s not a future.”
Ava met her mother’s gaze without flinching. “He’s the only one who talks to me. He listens. That is a future.”