five

Jason' POV:

I stood there frozen, still holding the little girl’s tiny hand in mine.

Her small fingers were wrapped around mine like it was the most natural thing in the world, but everything about this moment felt wrong. No, not wrong, nothing about this felt wrong. It was just too big of a situation for me to understand all at once.

She looked like Isabel. The same soft brown eyes, the same shape to her face. Even the way she blinked up at me, curious and unafraid, reminded me of her. But before my mind could think too far, before I could even ask the question that was now nagging in my mind, I saw her walking towards us and God, she looked divine.

Her body tensed the second the little girl spoke. She turned fully, her gaze locking onto mine, sharp and unreadable. For a split second, I thought she’d say something. Anything.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she walked toward us, her steps calm and quiet. She didn’t flinch or hesitate, not even when her eyes drifted down to where her daughter’s hand was still holding mine. The moment she reached us, she knelt in front of the little girl, brushing her curls back behind her ear.

“Sweetheart,” she said softly, her voice steady and sweet. She now had that motherly tone and she sounded perfect. “You can’t run off like that. I’ve told you before, haven’t I?”

The little girl’s head dipped low like she knew she was in trouble. didn’t scold her beyond that, though. She just stood back up, gently prying her daughter’s hand from mine without ever looking at me again. Not one glance. As if I wasn’t even there.

The way she shielded her daughter with her arm, standing slightly in front of her, told me everything I needed to know.

I wasn’t part of her world anymore.

And maybe, I never had been. I was just a jerk. I didn't give her a chance.

“Isabel…” The name barely left my lips, more breath than voice. My throat felt tight, like the words wouldn’t make it out.

But she didn’t answer. She didn't even acknowledge me as a human being.

What the hell?

She turned, guiding the little girl away without a second of hesitation. Not a single look back.

As soon as she turned to leave

My feet felt glued to the marble floor, my mind spinning faster than I could keep up. I wanted to go after her, to stop her, to say something. Anything. But I couldn’t even find the right words. I couldn’t even take the first step, but as soon as she actually started to leave, my hands shot out, grabbing her wrists.

“Hey, leave me alone—”

“I just want to talk—”

“Let me go!” She tried to struggle against me, but I wanted to actually pull her closer, because I needed to speak with her, dammit.

“The lady said she didn't want to talk,” A cool voice interrupted me, making me lose my grip on her momentarily.

A tall man, dressed in a sharp suit and who seemed awfully composed stepped into view. He had a kind of polished look to him, like he belonged in a business magazine or on some billionaire’s list. His hair was dark, trimmed close to his head, and not a single thing about him looked out of place. Even the way he stood screamed control and power, but not the loud kind. The quiet kind.

I know this person. He wasn’t a stranger.

Knox Reynolds.

I knew the name before he even spoke another word. I had seen him in papers, business circles, places where money moved faster than people did. He was sharp, clean, and wealthy enough to buy the entire hotel we were standing in. And right now, he was walking straight toward us.

His pace was easy, like he belonged there. Like the picture was already complete, and I was just some background noise he hadn’t noticed yet.

When he reached us, the little girl lit up. She let go of Isabel’s hand and rushed to him, arms stretching wide.

“Daddy!”

The word hit me harder than I expected. Daddy? is…? No.

Knox bent down, scooping the little girl up into his arms. He didn’t seem surprised. He didn’t even ask why she had wandered off. His hand brushed gently over her curls as if this was just another normal day, a smile perched on his face.

“I was looking all over for you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth and easy. “You scared your mum, you know.”

The little girl giggled, unbothered, while moving away from me and stood beside them, her expression calm and unreadable. She still hadn’t looked back at me. She'd avoided my eyes the entire time.

Damn it, Isabel.

Knox glanced at her then, his hand resting on the little girl’s back as he spoke. “Ready to head up?”

nodded, adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder.

And just like that, they turned toward the elevator. Together.

It was almost too perfect. The little girl resting comfortably on his shoulder, standing close at his side, the three of them moving like a family. My stomach knotted painfully, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

I wanted to believe it wasn’t real. That this was some trick of fate or coincidence. But there was no denying the truth staring me in the face.

She had moved on.

And not just with anyone. With Knox Reynolds.

The man who was everything I wasn’t. Present. Committed. A father.

My mind kept circling the same thought, over and over. Was she his? The little girl with Isabel’s eyes and that soft, sweet smile. Was Knox really her father?

The elevator doors opened, and the three of them stepped inside, the little girl resting her head on Knox’s shoulder as if it was the most natural place in the world.

The doors slid shut, cutting off the last piece of the scene.

And I was left standing there.

Alone.

I sank down into one of the lobby chairs, burying my head in my hands. The quiet buzz of the hotel swirled around me, but all I could hear was the sound of that little girl’s voice.

Daddy.

I hadn’t even thought of that word in years. I didn’t know if it was jealousy, or regret, or both curling tight around my chest, but it felt like someone had thrown a punch in the guts.

I stared blankly at the floor, my phone still clutched in my hand. I’d forgotten the call. I’d forgotten the world. The private investigator. Everything.

The screen was still lit up, the call long ended.

I never got to hear the rest of the sentence.

I found her— Is what the message said.

I didn’t need to hear the rest because I had found her myself.

But I was too late.

I leaned back, closing my eyes, trying to quiet the storm inside me. But Isabel’s face wouldn’t leave. Neither would the little girl’s.

I took in a deep breath, standing up and I felt a wave of determination wash through me.

Isabel was mine, and I was going to get her back.