Chapter 3 - The Shadow Of The Past
Miles brought Sophie to his penthouse overlooking the city skyline. The apartment was a monument to modern minimalism: white marble, floor-to-ceiling glass, pristine geometric furniture, and an overwhelming silence that felt cold rather than peaceful.
His personal assistant, Clara, was waiting at the door, her tablet tucked under her arm. She was prepared with clothes, toys, and healthy snacks she had ordered on short notice after Miles’s frantic phone call from the hospital.
"Mr. Wilson, the media is already asking questions," Clara murmured quietly as Sophie walked cautiously into the vast living room, staring at the glittering city lights below. "A photographer caught you leaving the hospital with a child. The board is also asking about tomorrow's quarterly earnings call."
"Cancel the earnings call," Miles said without hesitation, taking off his jacket and draping it over a chair. "Tell the board I am taking a leave of absence for personal reasons."
Clara blinked in shock. "Sir? You’ve never missed a board meeting in the company's history. The stock—"
"I don't care about the stock right now, Clara," Miles interrupted sharply, though his tone held no malice—only an absolute, unyielding priority. "Get the best private investigators in the city. I want a full history on Emily’s life over the past ten years. Where she lived, where she worked, her medical history, her debts, everything. And arrange for a top-tier private security team at the hospital to ensure no paparazzi or reporters get near her room."
"Right away, sir," Clara nodded, quickly typing notes on her screen before quietly exiting the penthouse.
Miles walked over to Sophie, who was sitting on the edge of a massive velvet sofa, looking tiny against the immense furniture. She held Mr. Buttons tightly against her chest, her knees pulled up to her chin.
"Are you hungry, Sophie?" he asked, softening his tone. "I have fruit, sandwiches, or whatever you’d like."
"I want Mommy," she whispered softly, a tear spilling over her lashes. "And I want my room. My bed has the star light."
Miles felt a sharp pang of guilt. He knew nothing about her life. He didn't even know where she lived.
Within three hours, the private investigator delivered a thick folder to Miles’s study while Sophie finally fell asleep in a guest room, tucked under soft silk sheets with Mr. Buttons beside her.
Miles opened the dossier beneath the dim glow of his desk lamp. As he turned the pages, every piece of information felt like a blade twisting in his conscience.
Emily had lived in a small, run-down apartment on the east side of the city—a neighborhood plagued by rising rents and failing infrastructure. She worked two jobs: seamstress by day at a tailor shop, and cleaner by night at a local diner. She had refused public assistance, preferring to earn every penny to support Sophie.
Her bank statements showed a meager balance, barely enough to cover monthly rent and groceries. Yet, tucked inside the file were receipts of donations she had made to local children’s shelters whenever she had a few extra dollars.
Then, Miles found the medical records.
Emily had been suffering from chronic fatigue and severe anemia for months, but she had skipped her follow-up appointments because she couldn't afford the medical bills. On the day of the accident, she had been running across Main Street toward a pharmacy to pick up medicine for Sophie’s fever when a distracted driver blew through a red light.
Miles dropped the papers onto his desk and buried his face in his hands.
While he was sitting in glass boardrooms negotiating billion-dollar deals and buying luxury yachts he barely used, his sister was choosing between her own healthcare and buying food for her child. He had built an empire to protect himself from poverty, yet he had left his own blood to drown in it.
His phone buzzed on the desk. It was Dr. Thorne from the hospital.
May you like
Miles answered immediately. "Doctor? Is she awake?"
"Mr. Wilson, you need to come to the hospital immediately," Dr. Thorne's voice was tense. "Her intracranial pressure has spiked dramatically. We need to perform an emergency decompressive craniectomy, but there are severe complications. You need to be here."
