Chapter 2: The First Day of Extraordinary

"Copy that," another voice answered the man on the phone. "You have orders to bring her in."

"Understood," the man said, watching as the young woman plucked the flowers, placed them in her basket and went inside. "You should warn him though, she doesn't look like she will be what he's expecting."

"Understood," the voice said again. "Just bring her in anyway."

"We'll be there soon."

________________________________________

Abigail looked up as a man in a suit came into the store. He was wearing a suit, and he started towards the till, but quickly turned down one of the aisles. Strange, Abigail thought, but left the man to himself. He clearly knew what he wanted.

Just then, another man in a suit came in. He looked entirely too serious to be buying flowers, but surprisingly, those kinds of men came in often. People that weren't able to express themselves clearly enough often got in trouble with their other halves, and often came to her looking to solve the problem.

They normally chose roses, and Abigail normally steered them in amore tasteful and careful way.

"Good morning sir," Abigail greeted cheerfully. "What can I help you with today?"

"Are you Abigail Miller?" The man asked.

Abigail immediately froze, the smile falling off her face. What now?

She'd already battled her empty bank account and mounting student loans this morning. They could not afford another catastrophe, not now. Hopefully they wouldn't have another catastrophe ever again, but definitely not now.

Abigail went thought their list of bills though, everything was up to date. They were behind in nothing. What could this man want?

"Yes, I am her," Abigail answered slowly.

"I was sent on behalf of your father, Ma'am," the man said calmly. "Mister Adam Woodtriche is requesting your company for lunch."

Abigail blinked, trying to process everything that was being said to her.

Her father. Never in her twenty-two years had she ever heard of her father from anyone other than her mother. And here he was, requesting lunch like it was the most normal thing in the world. They had never even met.

And then the name rang through Abigail's mind. Adam Woodtriche. It couldn't be the Adam Woodtriche, if her mother had said the name to her, Abigail would have written it off as a weird coincidence. But looking at the man in suit in front of her, and the two others outside her shop door, and taking in the three sleek black cars outside her shop, there was no mistake.

The Adam Woodtriche, one of the richest men in the country, thought she was his daughter.

"Ma'am," the man in the suit called her attention again. "We have cars waiting to take you to the restaurant, if you would please allow me to escort you out."

This man had to be insane if he thought Abby was just going to go with him without proof. This could be a very elaborate kidnapping plan for all she knew. She at least needed some kind of proof.

"Wait, wait," Abby told the man. "I can't just go with you. I need to call my mother first. I need to know if there's any truth behind any of this."

"Of course, Miss Woodtriche, we understand entirely," the man told her. "We'll be waiting just outside, you can let us know when you're ready."

Abby reached with shaking hands for her phone, and quickly dialled her mother's personal phone number. They never called each other at work; they couldn't take the chance of either of them getting fired, so they would only call in the chance of an emergency.

Her mother answered on the first ring.

"Abby, what's wrong?" Her mother asked, concerned.

Abby decided there would be no kind way to preface this, no normal way to start, so she decided to just plunge in to it.

"Mom," Abigail started, taking a deep breath. "Is my father's name Adam?"

The line went quiet on the other end. Her mother had never once revealed her father's real name. She had only ever called him, 'The Prince' in all her stories of him.

"Mom," Abigail tried again when there was still no answer.

"Yes," Her mother finally answered, sighing. "Yes, Adam Woodtriche. He found you, didn't he?"

"Were you hiding me from him?" Abby asked her mother seriously. There was no anger in her voice though, her mother was the most calm and rational person she knew; if her mom had purposely kept her father from her, Abby knew there had to be a good reason why.

"Yes," her mom answered. "And no." She sighed, long and hard. "He knew I still lived in this city, but he hasn't bothered contacting for a while. So I didn't tell him where we were, either."

"I understand," Abby answered calmly, though her heart was racing. Her father lived in the same city she did. Not only that, she had seen him, a good few times already. In interviews, in pictures.

How many times had she just paged past his name?

And his family.

"He wants to meet me," Abigail said again, after her mother didn't say anything else.

"Can you get the day off?" Her mother was asking if they could afford it. And truthfully, they could afford her taking two hours, but no more than that.

"Yes," Abigail nodded.

"Then, not that you need my permission, but I think you should go and meet him," her mother told her. "Just come back to me when you're done."

"Thanks, mom," Abigail answered. "I will."

"I have to go, I love you," her mom told her, and then hung up the phone.

"I love you too," Abigail whispered into the receiver, a dead line on the other end.

__________________________________________

The drivers would take her to the offices, where her father was currently working. And it was short drive from the flower shop.

Abigail sat in the back of the car, a driver and another man sat in the front. And they were followed by a car behind them, along with another car in the front.

All for protection, the man she'd spoken to, assured her.

Soon, they pulled up at a huge skyscraper, but instead of pulling up to the building, they drove around, and the huge glass doors at the back simply opened. And to Abigail's astonishment, they drove right through, into the building. They drove to an elevator on what she assumed to be the parking just by the fact that there were no people around.

The driver drove them straight into the elevator, again to Abigail's astonishment, and the elevator doors closed behind them, taking all of them, car and all, upwards.

When they reached the top floor of the buildings, the driver drove them a few paces out of the elevator, and stopped the car.

They were now in a rooftop parking garage better developed than most mansions Abigail had seen in her secret collection of magazines.

The driver opened the door for her, and a young woman came hurrying over.

"Miss Woodtriche," the young woman carrying a tablet greeted. "Your father is waiting for you on the restaurant floor, if you'd just follow me to the elevator."

The young woman, without waiting for an answer, immediately led Abigail to another, smaller elevator on the other side of the room, and pushed a button, taking them upwards.

Abigail was nervous, but she didn't allow it to overwhelm her. This was a man, possibly her father, but a man none the less. And she would hold herself together.

When she stepped out of the elevator, they had to round a corner. And then the private restaurant came into view.

And the man sitting at the table.

With dark brown hair and almond eyes.

And Abigail faltered in her steps, but was able to recover herself slightly.

"Abigail," the man greeted her, pulling out a chair for her to sit down. "It's so nice to finally meet you, I'm Adam."

Abigail sat down silently, and a glass of water and a cup of tea was placed down in front of her. Hibiscus. Her favorite.

"Hi," Abigail greeted softly. "It's nice to meet you too."

"I know it's been a long time," the man spoke. "I should have tried to contact you sooner, but," Adam shook his head. "There is no excuse. None at all. I can only say why I haven't."

"I understand," Abigail answered truthfully.

The little she knew of Adam Woodtriche was that he just wasn't the kind of man with free time or someone given to sentiment. And the two of those things together would make for nothing short of an absent father.

"I would like to start trying now, though," Adam crossed his hands on the table in front of him. "If you'd give me a chance. I would like to get to know you better now."

"I think I would like that too," Abigail answered, and though her head was swimming with everything that had happened today, she knew she wanted to get to know her father, too.

"Excellent!" Adam clasped his hands together. "Then, if you agree, I'd like to offer an arrangement. Would you be willing to come and stay with me for a little while? I'm a very busy man, and I think if you were to live with me, then those precious few hours where we get to spend together would be very beneficial for us to know each other."

Abigail blinked, taken entirely aback, but what about her mother?

"And besides," Adam waved his hand, talking seriously. "You belong in that world. You belong to it, and you deserve everything in it. I'd like to give that to you. You don't have to work in the flower shop, struggling just to get by. You have inherited an empire, wealth from generations before you. It's time you've been given that heritage, and everything that comes with it."