“I want children—but not with you!” The blue-eyed millionaire declared his desire for children, yet he disdained the woman accompanying him… But two years later, he saw the little girl she was leading, with eyes just as blue as his own

The rain had stopped by the time Michael reached the corporate headquarters of Ross Meridian in the Loop, but the sky remained the color of wet slate.

He walked past the security turnstiles without acknowledging the guards who bowed their heads in quiet reverence. He rode his private elevator to the sixty-fifth floor, stepping onto the plush wool carpet of the executive suite.

His chief of staff, Marcus Vance, was waiting outside his office door with a tablet tucked under his arm. Marcus was a sharp, meticulous man in his early forties who had managed Michael’s life for a decade.

“The board chairs are furious, Michael,” Marcus said, keeping pace with Michael’s rapid stride into the glass office. “You missed the luncheon with the Sterling Group. Victoria Sterling waited forty minutes at the club before leaving.”

Michael threw his wet coat onto the leather sofa. “Reschedule.”

Marcus paused, picking up on the sharp, erratic energy radiating from his boss. “Reschedule with Victoria? She’s not accustomed to being stood up. Her father called twice.”

“I don't care about her father,” Michael snapped, walking behind his massive walnut desk. He didn't sit down. He rested his knuckles on the dark wood, staring out at the Chicago skyline. “Marcus. I need you to find someone.”

Marcus pulled out his stylus, his face instantly shifting into professional focus. “Name?”

“Emily Harper.”

Marcus’s hand froze above the screen. He knew that name. Two years ago, when Michael had gone on a silent, destructive bender after her sudden departure, Marcus had been ordered to search discreetly. But Emily had scrubbed her digital footprint well, moving through private nursing networks that required warrants to access.

“Is there a legal matter?” Marcus asked carefully.

“No,” Michael said, his raspy voice barely audible. “She’s in Chicago. She’s living here. I saw her an hour ago near Lincoln Park.”

Marcus made a quick note. “I’ll hire a private investigation firm immediately. What do you need from her?”

Michael turned slowly, his gray eyes shadowed with a dark, desperate intensity that made Marcus take a subtle step back.

“She has a child, Marcus,” Michael whispered. “A girl. She’s about two and a half years old.”

Marcus’s eyes widened slightly. He was a master of discretion, but the math was instant and unmistakable. Two and a half years. Two years since Emily Harper vanished from Michael’s life.

“Michael...” Marcus began cautiously. “If the child is yours—”

“She has my eyes,” Michael interrupted, his voice cracking with a raw, unvarnished grief that Marcus had never heard in ten years of service. “There is no question. None. She has the Ross eyes.”

Marcus swallowed hard. “If Vivian finds out—”

“My mother finds out nothing!” Michael roared, slamming his fist onto the desk. The glass tumbler near his elbow rattled violently. “Do you understand me? If my mother gets wind of this before I know where Emily is sleeping tonight, I will tear down this firm and fire everyone in it.”

“Understood,” Marcus said quietly, bowing his head. “I’ll handle the investigation personally. No third-party agencies with leak risks. I’ll use our internal security detail.”

“Find her address,” Michael commanded, turning back to the window. “Find where she works. Find out who her doctor is. Find out everything. And do it by sunset.”

After Marcus slipped out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind him, Michael sank into his leather chair.

He opened his desk drawer, pulling out a small wooden box he kept hidden beneath confidential acquisition files. Inside lay a single item: a green pencil, worn down to the eraser, with small teeth marks near the top where Emily used to chew on it while thinking.

He held the pencil in his hand, pressing it against his palm until the lead nearly bit into his skin.

“I want children—but never with you.”

The words echoed through his head, sounding less like a confident declaration and more like the sentence of a damned man. He had thought he was protecting his future. Instead, he had exiled himself from the only warmth he had ever known, while his daughter grew up wearing yellow rain boots, eating strawberries in a public market, completely unaware that her father owned half the city she walked in.