4!Five years later

ZARA TAYLOR

I stood in front of the building, anticipating the joy of my life to burst through those doors. I wasn’t the only one. So many parents were just as impatient as I was.

It has been hours since I dropped my daughter, Hazel, off at her school, and right now, I will do anything to have her in my arms once again. The huge bell rang and the doors were busted open with a lot of children rushing to their parents.

I scanned the crowd, my heart racing, eyes desperately searching for her familiar face. Then, just as if time had slowed, I saw her, Hazel. My little girl, with her messy brown hair bouncing as she ran toward me. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, a grin spreading across her face.

“Mama!” she shouted, throwing herself into my arms. I caught her easily, holding her tightly as if I could somehow make up for the hours we’d spent apart.

“I missed you so much, Haze,” I whispered, brushing her hair from her forehead, inhaling the sweet scent of her childhood innocence.

“I missed you too, Mama!” she giggled, her arms wrapped around my neck. “We did a project today about the planets. Guess what? I made a model of the Earth and….” she continued excitedly, but I barely heard her. My mind, for a brief moment, wandered back to five years ago. To the night I made the decision that changed everything. To Matthew.

I had been running on adrenaline, making the decision to go through with the IVF, wanting a child but keeping my secret, a child who would never know the identity of her father. A child who would be mine alone. But now, five years later, Haze was everything to me. Every laugh, every tear, every moment spent with her was worth the heartbreak that had come before.

I pushed the thoughts aside and focused back on my daughter, her voice pulling me into the present. “... and then we played soccer outside! I was the goalie, and no one could score on me!”

I smiled at her enthusiasm, but something tugged in my chest. Her spirit, her energy, so much of it reminded me of someone. Of Matthew.

I shook the thought away, squeezing her a little tighter. Not today. Not right now.

"Well, it sounds like you had an amazing day," I said, setting her down gently and holding her hand as we walked toward the car. "What do you say we go get some ice cream?"

Her face lit up, her eyes wide. "Chocolate chip cookie dough, please!"

"Done," I agreed, feeling a flicker of warmth in my chest. It was moments like these that made everything feel worthwhile. I would protect her, no matter what, even if it meant never facing the truth about her father.

I dropped her bags in the backseat of my car and couldn’t feel her around me. “Hazel darling, let’s go,” but she didn’t move.

“What now?” I asked her. She folded her hands around her chest and had a frown on her face.

“Why don’t I have a daddy like the rest of my classmates?” she asked, and my heart sank. For a five-year-old child, my daughter can be pretty amazing and intelligent. She took that from me.

My mind raced, struggling to find the right words, something that wouldn’t hurt her, something that wouldn’t reveal too much.

I took a deep breath and turned in my seat to face her fully. "You do have a daddy, sweetie," I said, my voice a little softer than I intended. "He just doesn't live with us."

Her brow furrowed, the frown deepening. "But all the other kids have their daddies at home, Mama. Why not me?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. "Well, honey," I began slowly, "sometimes families are different. Some daddies live far away or... sometimes they can't be with us the way we wish they could be."

I watched as her eyes scanned my face, trying to make sense of the words, but it was clear she wasn’t completely satisfied. She tilted her head, her little voice quiet but persistent. "But who’s my daddy? Where is he?"

I closed my eyes for a brief second, the sharp ache of the truth almost too much to bear. “He’s someone who loves you very much, even though you’ve never met him. He’s a part of you, and he’s always with you in your heart. And I know that’s enough,” I said, my voice trembling.

“Okay, Mama,” she said softly, jumping into the backseat of the car, the conversation settled in her mind for now.

I let out the breath I had been holding, feeling a knot loosen in my chest. I fastened her seatbelt, then we drove to her favorite ice cream store.

After an hour of enjoying her ice cream and falling asleep on my lap, we headed home with her earlier question still on my mind.

I walked into our patio to see a huge envelope in our mailbox.

“Strange,” I don’t think I was expecting any mail today. After a rundown of our evening activities, I put Hazel to bed and took out the envelope.

I sat in the quiet of the living room, the envelope from my father’s estate lying unopened on the table in front of me. Hazel was asleep upstairs, her soft breath the only sound breaking the silence. The evening had been peaceful, just what I needed after the chaos of the day.

But now, the calm was shattered. I had lived my life in the UK for the past five years, carefully building a future I could be proud of. I had earned my law degree, worked hard to establish myself as a partner in a reputable firm, and given my daughter, Hazel, a life far removed from the pain of the past. Or so I thought.

My heart pounded as I scanned the lines of the will. According to this will, my father was the second largest shareholder of a prestigious law firm. Zenith Law. Every lawyer worth his or her salt knows about the Zenith Law firm. They are among the best in the world. And now I’m its second largest shareholder.

I continued to flip through the pages of the document, trying to figure out how this happened. My father was never a wealthy man nor a lawyer.

My thoughts faded away when my eyes got a clause in the document. “You have got to be kidding me,” I said to myself.

For me to have access to my shares, I have to get married and it doesn’t give me the choice of choosing who I should get married to.

I have to marry Matthew Russell. The man I did everything I could to get away from. The man behind my Mother’s death, and the father of my child.

The universe couldn’t be more wrong.