Chapter 9

“Excuse me, we’d like to meet Mr. Liam Ashford.”

The small voice of Devano echoed faintly between the soft hum of the air conditioner and the clicking of heels in the luxurious lobby of Ashford Group.

The receptionist — a young woman with a neat bun and polished smile — lifted her gaze, startled to see three small children standing in front of her desk.

Devano stood at the front, trying to appear brave. In his hand was a slightly damp white envelope, stained by the rain outside. Dirga stood beside him, clutching a crumpled sheet of paper that read For Our Father. Meanwhile, little Leviana kept her head down, holding a paper cup of coffee that trembled in her tiny hands.

The receptionist blinked several times, trying to make sense of the scene.

“Um… I’m sorry, who did you say you were looking for?”

“Mr. Liam Ashford,” Devano replied firmly. “We want to give him this letter.”

The woman looked at them uncertainly. “And… who are you?”

Devano’s eyes didn’t waver. “We’re his children.”

The lobby, once filled with chatter and footsteps, fell silent. A few employees slowed their pace, glancing curiously toward the trio. The receptionist froze, forcing a nervous smile.

“Children, perhaps you’re mistaken. Mr. Ashford is a very busy man, and—”

Suddenly, the sharp click-clack of high heels echoed from the elevator hall.

Everyone turned at once.

Out stepped an elegant woman with golden-blonde hair, a pristine white coat, and a designer leather bag. Her very presence commanded the room even before she spoke.

Celine Ward.

She stopped when her eyes landed on the three children. Her brows arched sharply.

“What’s this? Who are they?” she asked, voice cold and precise.

The receptionist immediately bowed her head. “They… said they wanted to meet Mr. Ashford, ma’am. Claimed to be his children.”

Celine’s eyes widened for a split second before her face returned to its mask of icy control. She strode forward, the click of her heels against the marble floor making the children flinch.

“Liam’s children?” she repeated with a faint, poisonous laugh. “How amusing. Where did you get such a ridiculous idea?”

Leviana’s hands trembled slightly around the coffee cup. “We saw pictures of Mama and Daddy on the internet,” she murmured, timid but resolute.

Celine let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “And your mother is?”

“Elara Wynters,” Dirga answered quickly, conviction burning in his young voice.

For a moment, Celine froze — that name sliced through her composure like a blade. But she recovered almost instantly, a cruel smirk curling on her lips.

“Oh, of course… Elara,” she said slowly, lacing the name with disdain. “And now she’s sending you here for what? Money? Or attention?”

Devano clenched his fists. “Mama doesn’t know we came. We just want to see our dad.”

His tone was sharp — innocent yet piercing.

Celine folded her arms, eyes narrowing. “Your father? Don’t be absurd, child. Liam doesn’t have any children, especially not with that woman.”

Leviana looked confused, tears starting to gather. “But… we look like him, don’t we? Mama said—”

Before she could finish, her small hand trembled, and the paper cup slipped.

The coffee spilled — dark liquid splashing onto Celine’s pristine white designer bag, staining the edge of the golden logo.

Silence crashed over the lobby.

Celine stared down at the stain slowly. Then her gaze lifted, locking on Leviana. Her eyes burned with rage.

“Do you have any idea how much this bag costs, you little brat?!” she snapped.

Leviana stumbled back, her voice breaking. “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—”

SLAP!

The sound cracked through the lobby.

Leviana staggered, nearly falling before Devano caught her. A bright red mark bloomed on her cheek, her wide eyes brimming with pain and shock.

“Lev!” Devano shouted furiously. “Don’t hit my sister!”

Dirga stepped forward, his small frame trembling but defiant. “You’re mean! We just want to see our dad!”

Celine’s chest rose and fell, her breath sharp with fury. “Get out before I call security!”

But Devano didn’t move. “We’re not leaving until we say something to him!”

By now, several staff had gathered, uneasy and alarmed. The receptionist was near tears, whispering, “Mrs. Ward, maybe let me—”

“No!” Celine snapped. “I won’t have Elara’s trash walking around this building!”

The words hit harder than any slap.

Leviana burst into tears, soft and broken. Dirga’s tears fell onto the paper he was holding — For Our Father — now damp with coffee and grief.

Two security guards arrived, hesitating at the sight of the tiny intruders.

“Please escort them out,” Celine ordered without another glance.

“No! Don’t make us leave!” Devano cried, struggling against the guard’s grasp. “We just want to give this letter to Dad!”

He lifted the wet envelope high, his hands shaking with anger and sorrow.

Leviana sobbed harder, calling faintly, “Daddy… where are you…?”

But no one answered.

The glass doors slid open, and the rain outside greeted them mercilessly. The guards ushered them onto the wet pavement.

They stood there, three small figures beneath a grey, unforgiving sky.

Leviana clutched her stinging cheek. “Why doesn’t Daddy want to see us, Dev?”

Devano looked up at the towering building, his eyes shimmering but steady. “Maybe… he doesn’t know we exist.”

Dirga squeezed the soggy paper in his hands. “If he knew… he’d come for us, right?”

Only the rain replied — steady, endless.

They stood there for a long time — three children just cast out from the place that should have been part of their world.

And on the twenty-eighth floor, a man stood by the wide glass window — Liam Ashford.

He had just stepped out of a meeting when he saw three tiny figures standing in the rain below.

He didn’t know who they were, but something in his chest twisted unexpectedly.

There was something in the way the eldest boy stood tall, staring up at the building.

Something in the small girl’s trembling sobs.

Something in the youngest boy’s grip on that ruined piece of paper.

And for reasons he couldn’t explain, Liam’s heart began to beat faster.

Far below, the three children walked away slowly, their small footsteps fading into the rain — carrying with them the first wound in their long journey to find the father the world seemed determined to deny them.