Chapter 4 - THE BARGAIN
The front door of the house clicked open.
Eight-year-old Emily stepped onto the porch, wearing her worn gray coat over her pajamas, holding a small wooden spoon in her hand.
"Grandma?" Emily called out softly, looking between her crying grandmother and the tall billionaire standing in the yard. "Is the man yelling at you?"
Claire immediately wiped her face with the back of her mitten, turning to face her granddaughter. "No, sweetie. No... go back inside with your sisters. The oatmeal is getting cold."
"He's the man from the graveyard," Emily said, her small, serious face unreadable as she looked down at Adrian.
Adrian took a slow step backward, lowering his head to show submission.
"I wasn't yelling at your grandmother, Emily," Adrian said softly, ensuring his voice was as gentle as possible. "I was... I was asking her to let me help."
Emily walked to the edge of the porch, looking down at the manila envelope in Adrian's hands.
"Mommy told us that help from strangers isn't free," Emily said, her voice carrying a terrifying maturity for a child who hadn't even reached her seventh birthday. "She said people only give you things when they want something back."
Adrian felt a lump form in his throat. Lara had taught them well. She had raised three fiercely independent, protective little girls who looked at the world with cautious, sharp eyes.
"Your mother was smart," Adrian admitted. "She was right to teach you that. But I am not a stranger, Emily. I am your father. And I don't want anything from you."
"Then why are you holding those papers?" Emily asked, pointing her wooden spoon at the envelope.
Adrian looked down at the documents in his hand.
"Because these papers say that this house belongs to you and your grandmother," Adrian said. "And I want to make sure no one ever tries to take it away from you."
Emily turned to look at her grandmother, whose shoulders were trembling as she held back her sobs.
"Grandma?" Emily asked quietly. "Is the house going away?"
Claire dropped to her knees on the cold porch, pulling Emily into a fierce, desperate hug. "No, baby... no. Grandma won't let anything happen to our home."
Adrian watched the two of them. He knew that if he forced his way in with his team of lawyers, if he served Claire with a paternity suit and demanded full custody in a public court battle, he might win on paper—but he would permanently destroy any chance of gaining his daughters' trust.
He had to play a longer, harder game. He had to prove his worth not with checks, but with presence.
"Claire," Adrian said softly, taking a step forward. "I am going to pay off the mortgage and the medical bills anonymously through a legal trust today. You don't have to thank me. You don't have to talk to me. But I am moving into the Bellweather Inn."
May you like
Claire raised her tear-stained face, looking at him with deep confusion. "Why?"
"Because I am going to be here every single day," Adrian vowed, his gray-blue eyes locking onto Claire and then onto Emily. "I will be at the bakery where Lara worked. I will be at the playground down the street. I will be sitting in my car outside their school. I am not going back to Chicago, and I am not going back to my company until my daughters know who I am."
