He froze. His company was about to go public, his name was in the headlines, and he feared a scandal more than anything. Instead of courage, fear won. He promised to talk soon, but the next day he disappeared.
He changed his number. He told himself she would be fine. That she deserved someone better. He convinced himself that running away was the right thing to do.
Six months later, his old housekeeper told him that Elena had given birth to a baby girl named Mia. “She looks like you,” the woman had said. Those words haunted him, but he buried them under work, under noise, under everything that was not truth.
Five years passed.
That April morning, when he arrived at Sunrise Home, the cameras were already waiting. Reporters crowded around as he stepped from the car, smiling politely and shaking hands. He handed the check to the orphanage director while flashbulbs burst around him.
Then a small voice pierced the air.
“Daddy!”
Everyone turned. A little girl with curly brown hair was running toward him. Before anyone could stop her, she wrapped her tiny arms around his leg.