Helen stood perfectly still as she watched the elevator door closed, her hands trembling at her sides. The weight of Dean’s voice still echoed in her ears.

We have a child?

She pressed the button for the ground floor, her movements stiff, robotic.

Her vision blurred as the floor lights ticked down slowly. Her body felt hollow, like she was made of glass and any sudden breath would shatter her into a million sharp, irreparable pieces.

As soon as the doors closed completely, and Dean left her sight, her knees buckled.

She slumped against the cool metallic wall, covering her mouth with both hands as the tears poured out, heavily.

Six years of pretending. Six years of pretending to be strong.

Six years of building walls so high she thought nothing could touch her again. And now, with one simple hello, Dean had torn them down like they were made of paper.

She sobbed, quietly at first, then louder, until she was gasping for air, her chest heaving.

The elevator stopped midway to let someone in. She quickly pressed the 'close' button, holding it down, desperate to be alone.

She couldn’t afford to be seen like this. Not Helen Brooks, CEO of the empire people worshipped. Not the woman the media called 'The Iron Empress.'

But in this moment, she wasn’t any of those things. She was weak.

She was just a woman who had spent six years building a future just to realize her past still held all the power.

By the time the elevator reached the lobby, she had wiped her face clean, fixed her lipstick in the reflection of her phone, and pulled herself together.

She stepped out only after she had taken a deep breath, heels clicking like nothing had happened.

Her assistant, Naomi, rushed over with a tablet in hand.

"Ma’am, is everything okay? You left the conference room so suddenly." She asked.

Helen gave a curt nod. Her voice was calm and it was practiced.

"The investor is not who I expected. I need you to complete the meeting on my behalf." Helen instructed.

Naomi blinked. "Of course, ma’am. Shall I—"

"Use the current pitch deck. Don’t negotiate. Just listen. I’ll review everything later." Helen interrupted her.

Naomi hesitated as she asked. "Should I cancel the rest of your day?"

Helen’s throat tightened again as she responded, "yes. Clear my calendar. I’m going home."

Without another word, she turned and walked toward the private exit. The chauffeur opened the door of her black Mercedes, and she sank into the back seat, heart still beating far too fast.

As the car pulled away from the building, Helen leaned her head back against the leather headrest and closed her eyes.

He was alive. He was here. And now, she had accidentally let him know about their daughter, her treasure.

She remembered that morning vividly. It was the morning after their first night together.

She had woken up and reached out to the other side of the bed, but it was cold and empty. Dean was gone. No goodbye. No note. She thought he’d abandoned her. She cried for weeks before the anger kicked in.

And now he claimed his father had died, leaving behind a failing empire.

It sounded like the truth. But it didn’t change the damage he left behind.

He had missed everything. Her pregnancy. The sleepless nights. Diana's first smile, her first words, first steps. Birthday candles. Fevers. Heartbreaks. Diana's cries for her father. He had missed it all.

And now he wanted to see her? No way!

She couldn’t let him in so easily. He didn’t deserve her daughter.

But deep down, buried under all the fury and pain was the tiniest flicker of doubt.

What if he’s telling the truth? What if his father had truly left behind a failing empire?

––––––––––

Back at the building, Dean stood in the now-empty hallway, staring at the elevator long after it had closed.

He expected anger. He even expected a slap.

But the part which haunted him most was her face as she walked away. She had a look of devastation, and still beautiful in a way that made his chest ache.

She hadn’t known he was coming. And now she was gone. He couldn't let it end this way.

He returned to the conference room and pulled aside his assistant, Michael, a sharp-eyed man who had been trained to handle any situation like this.

"You’re going to finish this meeting for me," Dean said quietly, pulling out a tablet from his bag.

"All the files are here. The pitch has already been reviewed. Just take notes, be polite, and don’t push too hard." He instructed

Michael looked surprised as he asked, "sir, you're leaving?"

"Yes," Dean said, already walking toward the exit.

"I have something more important to do." Dean muttered, a determined look in his eyes.

––––––––––

Helen’s estate was tucked away in a quiet neighborhood just outside the city. It was discreet, elegant, and protected by heavy gates and cameras.

Dean stayed in his car, parked a short distance away where he could see the entrance clearly.

He had followed her secretly, and now, he watched as her car stopped in front of the huge gates

He needed proof. He needed to see if he really had a daughter with Helen.

Before long, the gates opened, and Helen’s black car rolled in.

Dean waited for a while, he needed to catch a glimpse of his daughter.

Before long, a little girl holding the hands of an older lady stepped out, and Dean squinted before his breath caught in his throat.

"That’s her." He whispered.

His heart squeezed. She looked like him too.

The shape of her face. The slightly too-big eyes. The stubborn little chin. She really looked like him.

His chest felt like it would explode. He couldn’t look away. That was his daughter. He felt his eyes get wet with tears.

Suddenly, the years he lost hit him with full force. Guilt twisted through his gut. Tears threatened to rise, but he blinked them back.

He wasn’t ready to face her. He didn’t know her name.

He didn’t know what she liked, what scared her, what made her laugh.

And also, he had missed everything. He had missed the first part of her life.

But he wouldn’t miss anything else. But now, he vowed to stay with her and accompany her for the rest of his life.

He wanted his family back!