The mahogany boardroom of Crawford Industries fell silent as James Crawford’s phone buzzed against the polished table. At forty, he commanded respect with his sharp jawline, steel-grey eyes, and the kind of presence that made million-dollar deals happen with a handshake. The late-night emergency meeting about the Shanghai acquisition was reaching its climax when the unknown number flashed on his screen. «Take five, gentlemen,» James said, his deep voice cutting through the tension.
His executives shuffled papers as he stepped toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering Manhattan skyline. «Crawford Industries,» he answered, expecting another panicked call from Tokyo about market fluctuations. Instead, a small, trembling voice broke through the static.
«Papai! Daddy!»
James froze. The word hit him like a physical blow. His reflection in the window showed a man who’d never married, never had children, never even considered the possibility of someone calling him that sacred word.
«I—I think you have the wrong number, sweetheart,» he managed, his usual commanding tone softening involuntarily. «Please don’t hang up. Don’t.»
The desperation in the child’s voice was raw, heartbreaking. «I found your number in Mommy’s work phone. She said if we were ever really, really scared and she couldn’t help us, we should call this number and say that word.»
«She said you’d understand how serious things were.»
James’s chest tightened. Through the phone, he could hear muffled sobs in the background, multiple children crying softly.
«What’s your name, honey?»
«Madison. I’m almost eleven, and my twin sisters Zoe and Mia are seven. Mommy came home from her night-cleaning job this morning, but she collapsed and won’t wake up properly.»
«We don’t have any food left, not even the stale bread from two days ago.»
«Where are you, Madison?» James found himself moving away from the boardroom, his business deal suddenly seeming insignificant.
«I don’t know the exact address. We live in the apartment above the old bakery that closed down. The windows are boarded up, and there’s a big crack in the wall where the rain comes in.»
The description painted a picture of poverty that existed just miles from James’s penthouse, yet felt like a different universe.
«Madison, is your mommy there? Can I talk to her?»
«She’s breathing, but she just moans when I try to wake her. I’m scared something’s really wrong, but I don’t know any doctors or anybody else to call. Mommy always said this number was only for emergencies, and this feels like an emergency.»
James closed his eyes, processing what he’d heard. A mother who’d given her daughter his number for emergencies. A child who’d been taught to call him Daddy as some kind of code.
None of it made sense, but the desperation in Madison’s voice was real. «Madison, honey, I need you to tell me something important. What’s your mommy’s name?»
«Rachel Martinez, but that’s her married name. Before she married my stepdad, her name was different. I think it was Rachel Santos.»
The name Santos hit James like lightning. Eleven years ago. Rachel Santos, the woman with warm brown eyes and a laugh that could light up entire rooms.
She was the woman who’d cleaned the evening shift at Crawford Industries, who’d always smiled when she emptied his trash can during his late nights at the office. The woman who’d disappeared from his life without explanation after they’d spent six months finding excuses to talk to each other, sharing coffee in empty hallways, and falling in love despite the differences in their worlds.
«Madison,» his voice cracked slightly, «what does your mommy look like?»
«She has long brown hair, but it’s not shiny anymore, and she has pretty eyes that used to smile a lot, but now they look sad all the time. She’s thirty-seven, and she works cleaning offices at night when she’s not too sick. She used to work at a really tall building downtown before we moved here.»
James’s hand trembled against the phone. Rachel Santos, now Martinez. The woman he’d searched for desperately eleven years ago, who’d vanished right around the time his security chief had recommended tightening protocol around executive floors due to industrial espionage concerns. He’d always wondered if that had something to do with her sudden departure.
«Madison, sweetie, I need you to do something very important for me. Try to wake up your mommy again. Tell her that James Crawford is on the phone and that I’m coming to help.»
«You know my mommy?»
Before James could answer, he heard shuffling, then Madison’s voice becoming distant. «Mommy, wake up. There’s a man on the phone who says he knows you. His name is James Crawford.»
The silence that followed was deafening. Then a sharp intake of breath and Rachel’s voice, weak but unmistakably hers. «Give me the phone. Right now.»
James waited, his heart pounding as he heard whispered conversation, footsteps, and finally Rachel’s voice, hoarse but filled with shock and something that sounded like panic. «James, is it really you?»
«Rachel.» The name came out like a prayer. «My God, Rachel, I looked for you. After you stopped showing up for work, I tried to find you, but you’d just vanished.»
«I—» her voice broke. «James, I can’t do this conversation right now. Madison shouldn’t have called you. We’ll figure something else out.»
«Figure what out? Rachel, three children called me for help because their mother is unconscious and they have no food. I don’t care what happened between us eleven years ago. I care about making sure those little girls are safe tonight.»
Through the phone, he heard Madison’s voice. «Mommy, is the man really coming? Will he bring medicine to make you feel better?»
Rachel’s sigh was heavy with exhaustion and defeat. «James, this isn’t your responsibility.»
«Maybe not, but I’m making it my responsibility. Give me your address.»
«You don’t understand. Things are complicated. Madison, she—»
Rachel’s voice trailed off, and James heard her sharp intake of breath. «Oh God, what has she been told to call you?»
«She called me Daddy. Rachel, is there something you need to tell me?»
The silence stretched so long James thought the call had dropped. Finally, Rachel whispered, «1247 Bleeker Street, Apartment 3B, above the old Giovanni’s Bakery.»
«I’ll be there in thirty minutes, Rachel. Yes, we’re going to talk. About everything.»
As James hung up, his hands shook. His reflection in the window showed a man transformed, no longer just a successful CEO, but someone about to face a past he’d never fully understood and a future he couldn’t have imagined.
He turned back to the boardroom where his executives waited. «Gentlemen, we’re postponing this meeting indefinitely. Cancel everything on my schedule for tomorrow.»
«Sir, the Shanghai deal!»
«We’ll wait.»
James grabbed his coat, his mind racing with questions that had no easy answers. Rachel Santos, who’d become Rachel Martinez, a child who’d been taught to call him Daddy in emergencies. And most importantly, the math that was becoming clearer by the second: eleven years ago, Madison almost eleven now.
As his private elevator descended toward the garage, James Crawford realized his carefully controlled world was about to change forever. The only question was whether he was ready for the truth he might find waiting in Apartment 3B.
The Mercedes S-Class felt absurdly out of place as James navigated the narrow, pothole-filled streets of Rachel’s neighborhood. Forty minutes earlier, he’d been discussing multi-billion dollar acquisitions. Now he was driving through an area that reminded him why he’d worked so hard to escape his own humble beginnings.
Streetlights flickered intermittently, casting eerie shadows on buildings that looked like they were holding each other up through sheer determination. Twelve-forty-seven Bleecker Street stood before him like a monument to broken dreams. The Giovanni’s bakery sign hung at an angle, several letters missing, paint peeling in long strips.
The boarded windows were covered in graffiti, and the smell of stale garbage mixed with something he couldn’t identify. Poverty, maybe, or simply neglect. James sat in his car for a moment, his mind racing back to eleven years ago.
Rachel Santos had been different from other employees at Crawford Industries. While most of the evening cleaning crew avoided eye contact with executives, Rachel had always smiled and wished him a good evening. Their conversations had started small: comments about the weather, questions about whether he needed his trash can emptied.
But gradually, those brief exchanges had become the highlight of his eighteen-hour days. Rachel was studying business part-time, working the cleaning job to pay for classes. She was intelligent, funny, and refreshingly unimpressed by his title or his family’s money.
In a world where everyone wanted something from him, Rachel had seemed to want only his company. Their relationship had been conducted in stolen moments: conversations in empty hallways, shared coffee in the building’s twenty-four-hour lobby, and eventually, a few carefully planned dinners at restaurants far from his usual circles. James had known his father would disapprove, but for the first time in his life, he’d been willing to risk family expectations for personal happiness.
Then one night, Rachel simply didn’t show up for work. Her supervisor said she’d called in, claiming a family emergency. When she didn’t appear the following night, or the night after that, James had tried to find her, but Rachel Santos had vanished completely.
No forwarding address, no contact information beyond the employee file that listed an apartment that was empty by the time he’d arrived there. He’d hired private investigators, but they’d found no trace of Rachel Santos in New York or the surrounding states. After six months of searching, James had forced himself to accept that she’d chosen to disappear, probably deciding that a relationship with her boss was too complicated to maintain.
Now, staring up at the crumbling building, James felt the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on him. He grabbed the bags of groceries he’d hastily purchased from the twenty-four-hour market, enough food to feed a family for weeks, and headed toward the unmarked door beside the boarded bakery front.
The stairwell reeked of mildew and something worse. Paint peeled from the walls in long strips, and several steps creaked ominously under his weight. By the time he reached the third floor, his expensive shoes were covered in a layer of grime he preferred not to examine too closely.
Apartment 3B’s door was scarred with scratches and dents. The number 3 hung upside down, held by a single bent nail. James knocked softly, not wanting to wake the neighbours, but desperately needing to see Rachel again.
The door opened a crack, revealing a chain-lock and a pair of large blue eyes peering up at him.
«Are you James?» The voice was small but brave.
«You must be Madison.» James knelt down to be at eye-level with the crack in the door. «I brought food and some medicine for your mum, sweetheart. Hold on.»
Madison’s voice was mature beyond her years as she called over her shoulder. «Mummy, he’s here.»
The chain rattled and the door swung open. Madison was smaller than James had imagined from her mature phone conversation, painfully thin, with dirty blonde hair that needed washing and clothes that were too small for her growing frame. But her eyes held an intelligence and responsibility that shouldn’t have existed in someone not yet eleven.
«Thank you for coming,» she said with the solemn politeness of a child forced to grow up too fast. «Zoe and Mia are with mummy. She’s awake now, but she’s still really weak.»
James stepped into the apartment and his heart broke. The space was tiny, a single room that served as bedroom, living room, and kitchen. A fold-out couch dominated one wall, where two small forms were curled against a woman James almost didn’t recognise.
The kitchenette consisted of a hot plate, a mini-fridge that hummed loudly, and a sink with a persistent drip. The walls were stained with water damage, and the single window was covered with a sheet instead of curtains. But what struck him most was how clean everything was.
Despite the poverty, despite the failing infrastructure, someone had maintained what dignity they could. The few possessions they owned were neatly arranged, and the apartment smelled of generic disinfectant rather than despair.
«James!»
He turned toward the voice and felt time collapse. Rachel sat on the couch, wearing scrubs that had seen better days, cradling two sleeping children against her sides. At thirty-seven, she was still beautiful, but life had carved lines around her eyes and added a thinness to her face that spoke of too many missed meals.
Her hair, once glossy and full, was pulled back in a practical ponytail that couldn’t hide its brittleness. But her eyes—those warm brown eyes that had haunted his dreams for eleven years—were exactly as he remembered, except now they held a wariness that cut him to the core.
«Rachel.» He set the grocery bags on the small table, including the fever reducer and vitamins he’d grabbed at the pharmacy. «My God, it really is you!»
«I look different, I know.» She wrapped her arms around the sleeping twins defensively. «Eleven years and three children will do that.»
«You look—» James paused, searching for words that wouldn’t sound condescending. «You look like you’ve been carrying the world on your shoulders.»
Madison had begun unpacking the groceries with the efficiency of someone who’d done this before, though James noticed her hands shook slightly as she pulled out items they probably hadn’t seen in months—fresh fruit, real meat, milk that wasn’t about to expire.
«Madison, why don’t you put some of this food away quietly, so we don’t wake your sisters?» Rachel said gently. «Mr. Crawford and I need to talk.»
As Madison moved efficiently around the tiny kitchenette, James caught Rachel’s arm gently. «It’s still James, and we definitely need to talk.»
«I know what you’re thinking,» Rachel said quietly, her eyes darting to Madison and back. «The timeline, the math. Yes, James, Madison is your daughter.»
The words he’d been expecting still knocked the breath from his lungs. «Why didn’t you tell me?»
«Because I was twenty-six years old, in love with a man whose father had already made it clear I was unsuitable for his heir, and pregnant with a child that would have destroyed everything you’d worked for.» Rachel’s voice was barely above a whisper. «Your father’s security chief approached me the week I found out I was pregnant.»
James felt something cold settle in his stomach. «What did he say?»
«That there were concerns about security breaches from cleaning staff who had developed inappropriate relationships with executives, that my employment was being terminated immediately for protocol violations. And that if I tried to contact you or make any claims about personal relationships, they had documentation that could make my life very difficult.»
The revelation hit James like a physical blow. His father’s interference, the mysterious disappearance, Rachel’s sudden departure—it all made horrible sense now.
«So you just left. Without giving me a choice.»
«I gave you the only choice that protected both of us. I changed my last name back to my mother’s maiden name, took the savings I had, and moved to Brooklyn. I planned to raise Madison alone and let you have the life your family wanted for you.»
«And you never thought to contact me? Not once in eleven years?»
Rachel was quiet for a long moment, watching Madison arrange items in the tiny refrigerator. «I thought about it every day for the first year. But then I met David Martinez. He was a good man, James.»
«A paramedic who knew I had a daughter and didn’t care about who her father was. He married me, adopted Madison legally, gave us his name and his love.»
«What happened to him?»
«Cancer. Diagnosed when the twins were eighteen months old, gone eight months later. No life insurance that covered his condition. Medical bills that ate through everything we’d saved.»
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. «Madison was only four, but she remembers him. He’s the only father she’s ever known.»
James processed this information, trying to reconcile the Rachel he’d known with the woman who’d endured so much. «But you kept my number. You taught Madison to call me.»
Rachel looked embarrassed. «I work for a building maintenance company now. Different buildings, different shifts. About three years ago, I was assigned to Crawford Industries for their weekend deep cleaning rotation. I saw your name on the directory, saw you had the same office. I—I updated your contact information from the company directory.»
«You’ve been cleaning my building for three years!»
«Weekend, overnight shifts. You’re never there on weekends. But I kept thinking, what if something happened to me? What if the girls had no one? So I taught Madison about the emergency number, told her it was only if things were really, really bad and she had no other choice.»
«But why teach her to call me Daddy?»
«Because I knew, if a strange child just called you asking for help, you might think it was a prank or a scam. But if she said that word—» Rachel’s voice broke slightly. «I knew it would get your attention long enough for you to listen.»
Madison had finished with the groceries and was now sitting cross-legged on the floor, clearly listening to every word, despite pretending to be occupied with a worn colouring book.
«Madison,» James said gently, «can you look at me for a minute?»
She raised her eyes, blue-grey eyes that were unmistakably his own, set in a face that was a feminine version of his childhood photographs.
«Your mom is right. I am your biological father. But I didn’t know about you until tonight. If I had known—»
«Would you have wanted me?» The question was asked with the matter-of-fact tone of a child who’d learned not to expect too much from adults.
The question hit James like a hammer blow. «Madison, I would have moved heaven and earth to be part of your life. I’ve spent eleven years wondering what happened to your mom, wishing I could find her again.»
«But you have an important job. Mommy says you’re very busy and very successful.»
«I am busy, but being successful doesn’t matter if you don’t have people to share it with.»
James moved closer, still keeping a respectful distance. «Madison, I know this is all very confusing and scary, but I want you to know that from now on, you and your sisters and your mom are going to be safe. You’re never going to go hungry again, and you’re never going to have to be afraid.»
«Even Zoe and Mia? Even though they’re not your real daughters?»
James glanced at the sleeping twins, their small faces peaceful against Rachel’s sides. «Even Zoe and Mia. Family isn’t just about blood, Madison. It’s about choosing to love and take care of each other.»
One of the twins stirred, opening sleepy blue eyes and staring at the stranger in their apartment with curiosity rather than fear.
«Are you the food man?» she whispered.
«I’m James,» he said softly, «and yes, I brought food. Are you Zoe or Mia?»
«I’m Mia. Zoe has a scar on her chin from when she fell off the playground.» She pointed to her sister who was still sleeping. «Are you going to stay and take care of us?»
The innocent question hung in the air. Rachel tensed, clearly prepared to intervene.
But James answered honestly. «I’m going to make sure you’re all taken care of, but there’s a lot we need to figure out first.»
«Grown up stuff?»
«Yes, grown up stuff.»
Mia nodded solemnly as if this made perfect sense. «Mommy does a lot of grown up stuff. Sometimes she cries when she thinks we’re sleeping, but then she makes us breakfast and pretends everything’s OK.»
Rachel’s face flushed with embarrassment. «Mia, that’s enough.»
But James was looking at Rachel with new understanding. «How long has it been this bad?»
«Define bad,» Rachel said defensively.
«Rachel.»
She was quiet for a long moment. «Two years, maybe three. The rent keeps going up, but the work doesn’t pay more. I’ve been working sixty hours a week just to keep us housed and fed. Sometimes I have to choose between groceries and electricity.»
«And you never thought to call me?»
«And say what? ‘Hi, James. Remember me from eleven years ago? I have your daughter and she’s hungry.’ What if you’d hung up? What if you’d decided Madison was better off somewhere else? What if you’d tried to take her away from me?»
The fear in her voice was real, raw, and it broke something inside James’s chest. He understood now why she’d stayed away, why she’d taught Madison to call only in the most desperate circumstances.
«Rachel, look at me.»
She raised her eyes reluctantly.
«I would never take Madison away from you. You’re her mother. You’ve raised her, sacrificed for her, kept her safe. But I also won’t let any of you struggle like this anymore. We’re going to figure this out together.»
«James, I can’t just accept charity.»
«It’s not charity. Madison is my daughter. That makes you family and that makes Zoe and Mia my family too. Taking care of family isn’t charity. It’s responsibility.»
As if summoned by their conversation, Madison looked up from her colouring book. «Are you going to live with us now? Or are we going to live with you?»
The question was simple, but the answer would change all of their lives forever. James looked around the tiny apartment, at the water stains on the ceiling, the boarded-up windows, and the sounds of domestic violence coming from neighbouring units. Then he looked at Rachel, exhausted and proud, and still the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, and at three little girls who deserved so much more than this.
«We’re going to figure that out,» he said finally. «But first, we’re going to make sure everyone is safe and healthy and has enough food.»
Madison nodded as if this was a reasonable adult answer, but her next question caught him completely off guard. «Are you going to marry mommy?»
Rachel’s face went white. «Madison!»
«I’m just asking, because on TV, when daddies come back, they usually marry the mommies, and then everyone lives happily ever after.»
James felt his heart racing. «Madison, life is more complicated than TV shows. Your mom and I, we have a lot of things to work through first.»
«But you still love her, right? Because you came when we needed you, and mommy’s eyes look different when she looks at you.»
Out of the mouths of babes. James glanced at Rachel, who was studying her hands with intense concentration. «Madison, sometimes grown-ups need time to figure out their feelings,» he said carefully.
«That’s okay,» Madison said with the wisdom of someone far older than her almost eleven years. «But I think you should know that mommy kept a picture of you in her jewelry box. And sometimes, when she thought we weren’t looking, she would take it out and look at it and get sad.»
Rachel’s face turned bright red. «Madison, that’s enough questions for tonight.»
But as James processed what Madison had said, he realized that whatever else had happened in the past eleven years, Rachel had never completely let go of what they’d had together. Just as he had never stopped wondering what might have been. The revelation changed something in the air between them, a possibility that hadn’t existed moments before.
«Right now,» James said standing up, «what matters is getting you all somewhere safe, and making sure Rachel gets the medical attention she clearly needs.»
«I’m fine.»
«You collapsed from exhaustion and haven’t eaten a proper meal in who knows how long. You’re not fine.» James’ voice was gentle but firm. «I’m taking all of you to my place tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll start figuring out the rest.»
«James, we can’t just move into your penthouse.»
«Why not?»
«Because—» Rachel struggled to find words. «Because it’s not appropriate. Because I don’t want people to think I’m taking advantage of you. Because the girls don’t know you, and change is hard for them.»
«Then we’ll take it slow. But Rachel, look around this apartment. Look at your daughters. They deserve better than this, and you know it.»
Madison had been listening to the entire conversation, with the focused attention of someone who understood that her life was about to change dramatically. «I think we should go with James,» she said quietly. «Mia has been having bad dreams because of the scary sounds from downstairs. And Zoe asked me yesterday if we were going to have to start asking people for food again.»
The last statement hit both adults like a physical blow. «Again?» James asked.
Madison nodded matter-of-factly. «When things got really bad last winter, Mommy taught us how to ask for leftover food from restaurants. She said it wasn’t begging, it was just asking for help, and that sometimes people threw away good food that we could use.»
James closed his eyes, imagining Madison and her little sisters approaching strangers for scraps, learning to swallow their pride because hunger was stronger than shame.
«That’s never happening again,» he said quietly. «Ever.»
Rachel was crying silently, tears streaming down her face as the weight of their circumstances was laid bare in front of the man she’d loved and lost. «I did the best I could,» she whispered. «I tried so hard to give them a good life.»
«You did give them a good life,» James said firmly. «You gave them love, stability, values, and each other. You kept them together when it would have been easier to give up. Rachel, you’re an amazing mother.»
«I’m a mother who had to teach her children to beg for food.»
«You’re a mother who taught her children to survive, to be resourceful, to look out for each other. Do you think Madison would be as mature and responsible as she is if she’d grown up with everything handed to her?»
Rachel looked at Madison, who was now helping Mia put on shoes, while Zoe woke up slowly on the couch. «I suppose not.»
«Those girls are incredible because of how you raised them, not despite it. But now they don’t have to be so strong all the time. Now they get to just be kids.»
As the family gathered their few belongings, James understood that this was just the beginning. There would be lawyers to consult, paternity tests to confirm what they all knew, living arrangements to negotiate, and a relationship to rebuild with Rachel while forming new bonds with three daughters he’d never known existed.
But looking at Madison as she helped her sisters pack their backpacks, seeing the hope beginning to replace fear in their eyes, and watching Rachel move through the small space with new purpose instead of defeated exhaustion, James Crawford realized that some things were worth upending your entire life for.
The most important deal of his life wasn’t happening in a boardroom; it was happening in a tiny apartment where a family was finally coming together.
The penthouse elevator ride was silent except for the twins’ whispered amazement at the mirrored walls and soft classical music. James watched Rachel’s reflection as she took in the opulence surrounding them, her expression unreadable, but her hands clasped tightly in her lap, revealing her nervousness. Madison stood straight-backed beside him, studying everything with the careful attention of someone who’d learned to assess new environments quickly.
When the elevator opened directly into his foyer, all three girls went completely still.
«This is where you live?» Zoe whispered, her voice barely audible in the vast space.
The penthouse that James had called home for eight years suddenly felt absurd through their eyes. The Italian marble floors stretched endlessly toward floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased Central Park like a living painting. The furniture, custom pieces that had cost more than most people’s annual salaries, looked like museum displays rather than places where real people lived and relaxed.
«It’s pretty empty, isn’t it?» James said, suddenly seeing his home through their perspective. «I always thought it was elegant, but now I think it just looks lonely.»
Mia reached up to take his hand, her small fingers warm against his palm. «We can help make it less lonely. Madison’s really good at making places feel like home.»
«I’d like that,» James said, surprised by how much he meant it.
Rachel had remained near the elevator as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to venture further into the space. «James, this is— This is beautiful, but we can’t stay here. It’s too much.»
«C’mon, mom,» Madison said, using the tone of a child who’d had to be reasonable with adults too many times. «Look at that kitchen. It has two ovens. And the refrigerator is bigger than our whole apartment. Zoe and Mia could actually have separate bedrooms.»
«We could have our own rooms?» Zoe’s eyes went wide. «Just for me and not sharing?»
The innocent question broke James’s heart all over again. Of course these children had never had their own space. Of course they’d grown up sleeping in the same room, sharing everything, never having a private moment or a place that was just theirs.
«You can each have your own room,» he promised. «With your own beds and your own decorations and space for all your things.»
«I don’t have very many things,» Mia said practically, «but I have a stuffed elephant that Daddy David gave me before he got sick. Could he have his own shelf?»
The casual mention of David Martinez, the man who’d stepped up to be a father to Madison and had loved the twins as his own, reminded James that this situation was more complicated than a simple reunion. These children had a complex history, loyalties and memories that he would need to respect and understand.
«Your elephant can have the best shelf in the room,» James assured her. «Can you tell me about Daddy David?»
The twins’ faces lit up immediately, and even Madison smiled for the first time since he’d met her.
«He was the best,» Zoe said earnestly. «He taught us how to make pancakes, and he read us stories every night, and he carried us on his shoulders to the park.»
«He loved Mommy so much,» Mia added. «Even when he got really sick, he still tried to help us with our homework, and he told us we should always take care of each other and Mommy.»
Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. «He was a good father to all of you. I hope… I hope you can understand that it’s okay to love him, and also let James be part of our family.»
Madison, who’d been quiet during this exchange, suddenly spoke up. «Daddy David said something to me before he died. I was only six, but I remember it exactly.»
Everyone turned to look at her.
