Unwanted Encounters

Isabella’s POV

“Mommy, are we going somewhere?”

Mira’s tiny voice broke the silence in the room and snapped my attention away from my phone. She was seven years old, yet her voice still sounded small and silvery, like that of a four-year-old. I never understood why. Sometimes it worried me. Other times, like now, it just made my chest ache.

I knew I had stayed too long on my phone. I had ignored her for longer than I should have, and I hoped she would understand. I was staring at Donovan’s picture, scrolling through his company profile, studying his growth, his partners, his weaknesses. I needed to know where to hit him from. If I wanted to do this properly, I needed a plan. A real one. Not the one set on anger or impulse.

I locked the phone and dropped it beside me on the sofa. Then I looked at my daughter and smiled, my eyes soft as I took in the face I had made with my own body and blood.

“Yes, sweetie. We are going somewhere,” I said. “Do you want to guess where?”

I let my voice rise playfully.

She grinned and pressed a finger to her lips, her eyes fixed on me. That was her thinking face. I chuckled.

She suddenly gasped. “We are finally going to see daddy?”

She said it like a fact, not a question. Like she already knew.

My heart skipped hard.

Daddy.

The only daddy we had ever known was dead.

I froze, my smile slowly fading. Had she been doubting the story all this time?

“Mommy, I know the dead daddy is not my dad,” she said quietly, her face suddenly serious.

I did not even remember standing up. One second I was on the sofa, the next I was untangling my legs and moving toward her. Marie, her nanny, was beside her, helping her button her dress.

My chest felt tight.

“Nanny Violeta told me,” Mira added quickly, like she knew I was about to ask.

My hand curled into a fist.

That bastard.

How dare she? What right did she have to open her mouth? I had trusted her. I had trusted everyone around my child to protect what I chose not to say.

All this time, I thought Mira did not know anything. She never talked about him. She never asked questions. She never cried for a father. I assumed she accepted the story.

Ever since my husband died, Mira always avoided anything in school that involved family. If there was an assignment about parents, she chose another topic. I thought it was just grief. Or fear.

Now I realized it was understanding.

She understood far more than a child her age should.

And that scared me.

“Mommy, when are we seeing him?” she asked softly.

I brushed my fingers through her hair and gave Marie a serious look.

Leave us.

Marie nodded and walked out without a word.

“Mira,” I said slowly, crouching in front of her. “You do not have any other father apart from the one you have always known.”

I made my voice calm, steady. Convincing.

She pressed her lips together and blinked. “But…”

I shook my head. “No but, baby. Daddy died a long time ago. It is just us. You and me. There is no other man. No hidden daddy. I am your mommy, and I am also your daddy. Do you understand?”

She hesitated.

Then she nodded, slowly, like she was tired.

I pulled her into a tight hug immediately.

I could not risk him knowing about her. Not now. Not ever. If he found out about Mira, he would have power over me. And I would not allow that. Mira was mine. I suffered for her. I struggled. I bled. I stayed up nights when I was exhausted and broken.

No one was taking her from me.

Not even her so called father.

“So,” she said softly against my neck, “where are we going?”

I pulled back and forced a smile. “We are going to your new school for final registration.”

I expected excitement.

Instead, she stared at me blankly.

“Mira? What is it?”

“I do not like it here,” she said. “I want to go back to Germany.”

My mouth opened, then closed.

“Why?”

“My friends are not here,” she said. “And this place feels strange.”

I had no words. None.

I was about to speak, to explain, to comfort her, when a knock came at the door.

“Ma’am,” Marie called. “You have a guest downstairs.”

“A guest?” I repeated.

I turned to Mira. “I will be right back, okay?”

She nodded.

I turned to Marie. “Finish up. I will join you shortly.”

I walked downstairs slowly, my mind racing. No one knew about this penthouse. This was my second place in Rochester. Even the press did not know about it. Nora was the only friend I had, and she would not come this early. That’s if she knew the address.

As I reached the last step, I saw him.

Standing by the entrance.

My breath caught.

He turned when he heard my footsteps, and my feet went cold.

“Claire,” he said.

Fear crawled up my spine.

It was like he changes after each day I see him. He looked… different. Still older. Sexier. More confident. His shoulders were broader, his jaw firmer. Everything about him pointed at his awareness of how much he was worth. And annoyingly, he looked even more handsome than I remembered.

I hated that thought and pushed it away immediately.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped.

“Claire, I can expla—”

“And would you like me to set a reminder for you every second of the day that I am not Claire?” I cut in, my voice shaking with anger. “I am not her.”

“I am sorry,” he said quickly. “You just look so much like her.”

“Well, I am not her. Understand that.”

He raised his hands slightly. “Okay. My bad.”

“Why are you here?” I asked. “And how did you even find my house?”

“I saw you come in.”

“So you followed me.”

“You could say that.”

I took a deep breath. “Look, Aiden. Being friends with your sister does not mean we are friends.”

“I thought we moved past that.”

I wanted to scream. To curse him. To tell him to stay the hell away from me. Away from my life.

But I needed him.

Or rather, I needed access to him.

And his father.

My fingers curled into fists as I swallowed the disgust rising in my throat.

“Nora asked me to give you this,” he said, stepping closer and holding out a card.

I hesitated, then took it.

“What is it?”

“She insists you must come.”

I looked down at the card and felt my chest tighten. My fingers trembled as I opened it, but I made sure he did not notice.

A wedding invitation.

My eyes widened.

Serena.

The name stared back at me. The same woman who came between us. So it was official now.

Good for him.

Then why did it hurt?

“You are getting married?” I said, forcing a smile. “Congratulations.”

“I would be honored if you attend.”

“I do not know if—”

“Mommy!”

Mira’s voice cut through the air.

My heart jumped.

She ran toward me, smiling, her earlier mood gone. Relief flooded me, then panic followed immediately.

I did not want him anywhere near her.

Her eyes landed on him, and she gasped.

“It is him,” she said excitedly. “The wristband uncle from the company launch.”

My blood ran cold.

“Mira,” I warned through my teeth.

“Wait, she is your daughter?” Aiden asked, his eyes fixed on her.

Before he could say anything else, Marie appeared and gently pulled Mira away.

“You should leave,” I said quickly.

My heart was pounding hard as I stood too close to him. I slammed the door in his face before he could speak.

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling my heart beat like it wanted to escape.

What was wrong with me?

Aiden had seen Mira.

Things just got complicated.

“Marie!” I shouted as I turned and rushed upstairs.

And for the first time in years, fear walked beside me again.