The little girl standing in his doorway had the most startling blue eyes he had ever seen, eyes that seemed to mirror his own with uncanny precision. Her golden hair caught the light from his desk lamp, and there was something about the shape of her face, the determined set of her small jaw, that seemed hauntingly familiar.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Kevin found himself studying Dorothy’s features with an intensity that surprised him, while Dorothy stood frozen in the doorway, suddenly aware of the gravity of the moment her mother had prepared her for.
«Are you the boss man?» Dorothy finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper in the vast office.
Kevin cleared his throat, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had overcome him. «I’m Kevin Barton, the CEO of this company. You must be the little girl with the letter.»
Dorothy nodded and walked across the plush carpet toward his desk, her small sneakers silent on the thick fibers. She held out the envelope with both hands, as if presenting a sacred offering. «Mommy wrote this for you. She said it’s very, very important and that you have to read it right now.»
Dorothy’s eyes never left his face as she spoke, searching for something she couldn’t name. Kevin took the envelope, noting how the paper felt slightly damp from Dorothy’s nervous perspiration. The handwriting on the front was elegant but shaky, as if written by someone fighting against physical weakness. Something about that handwriting tugged at a memory buried deep in his mind, but he couldn’t quite place it.
He opened the envelope carefully, aware that Dorothy was watching his every movement with intense concentration. As he unfolded the letter, a faint scent of lavender wafted up from the paper, a fragrance that sent an unexpected jolt of recognition through his system. The letter was written on simple stationery, but the words it contained would shatter Kevin’s carefully constructed world.
«My dearest Kevin, I know this letter will come as a shock to you, and I pray you will find it in your heart to read it completely before making any judgments. My name is Nancy Cromwell. Though you knew me once as Nancy Peterson, eight years ago we shared something beautiful together, something that created the most precious gift I have ever received. Our daughter, Dorothy.»
Kevin’s hands began to tremble as he read, his breath catching in his throat. Nancy Peterson. The name hit him like a physical blow, bringing with it a flood of memories he had spent years trying to suppress. Nancy, with her radiant smile and gentle touch. Nancy, who had left him broken and believing in nothing but his own isolation. Nancy, whom he had loved more than life itself.
«I know what you must be thinking,» the letter continued, «and I know the circumstances under which we parted were painful and confusing. But Kevin, our daughter needs you now, and I have nowhere else to turn. I am dying. The doctors give me perhaps two months, maybe less. I have exhausted all my savings on treatments that have only delayed the inevitable. Dorothy doesn’t know how sick I am, but she knows that something is terribly wrong.»
Kevin’s vision blurred as he read, his successful businessman’s facade cracking with each word. He glanced up at Dorothy, who was still watching him with those impossibly familiar blue eyes, and felt his world shifting on its axis.
«Dorothy is everything good about both of us. She has your intelligence, your determination, and your beautiful eyes. She has been my strength through this illness, caring for me with a maturity that breaks my heart. She deserves so much more than I can give her now. She deserves a father who can provide for her, protect her, and love her the way every child should be loved.»
Kevin’s chest felt tight, as if he couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs. The little girl standing before him, this child who had seemed so familiar, was claiming to be his daughter. But that was impossible. He was sterile. The doctors had told him years ago that he would never be able to have children, a fact that had driven a wedge between him and every relationship he had ever attempted.
«I know you believed you could never have children,» Nancy’s letter seemed to read his thoughts. «But the doctors were wrong, Kevin. Dorothy is living proof of that. She is seven years old, born nine months after that last beautiful night we spent together before everything fell apart. I never told you about the pregnancy because by then, you believed I had betrayed you, and I was too proud and too hurt to fight for us anymore.»
Kevin’s mind raced back to that terrible time eight years ago. He remembered the photos that Susan had shown him, pictures that appeared to show Nancy with another man. He remembered the anonymous phone calls telling him that Nancy was cheating, the witnesses who claimed to have seen her in compromising situations. The evidence had seemed overwhelming, and his trust, once broken, had never fully healed.
«I don’t expect you to believe me immediately,» the letter continued, «but I beg you to look at Dorothy and see the truth for yourself. More importantly, I beg you to get to know her. She is the most wonderful person I have ever known, and if something happens to me, she will have no one. Her grandparents are gone, and I have no siblings. You are her only hope for a future filled with love and security.»
The letter concluded with Nancy’s address and a phone number, along with a desperate plea for Kevin to visit them, if not for her sake, then for Dorothy’s. The signature at the bottom was barely legible, as if Nancy had used the last of her strength to finish this final communication.
Kevin set the letter down with trembling hands and looked up at Dorothy, seeing her with entirely new eyes. The shape of her nose, the way she tilted her head when she was thinking, the stubborn set of her jaw. It was like looking at a feminine version of his own childhood photographs.
«Dorothy,» he said softly, his voice hoarse with emotion. «How old are you, sweetheart?»
«Seven,» Dorothy replied, holding up seven small fingers. «I’ll be eight in December. December 15th.»
Kevin’s breath caught. December 15th was exactly nine months after the last night he had spent with Nancy. The timeline matched perfectly, and the physical resemblance was undeniable. But more than that, there was something about Dorothy’s presence that felt like coming home, as if a part of him he hadn’t known was missing had suddenly been restored.
Before he could respond, his office door burst open without a knock. Susan Osborne strode in, her high heels clicking aggressively against the hardwood floor. She was dressed in a fitted red dress that emphasized her curves, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun that accentuated her sharp cheekbones. At twenty-nine, Susan was undeniably beautiful, but there was a hardness in her brown eyes that became more pronounced when she was angry or threatened.
«Kevin, darling, we’re supposed to be at lunch with the Richardson account in ten minutes, and Margaret said…» Susan stopped mid-sentence as her gaze fell on Dorothy. Her expression shifted from irritation to something much more dangerous: recognition and fear.
Susan’s eyes darted between Kevin and Dorothy, taking in the unmistakable resemblance between them. Her perfectly applied makeup couldn’t hide the way the color drained from her face as the implications hit her. For eight years she had been Kevin’s girlfriend, carefully positioning herself as the sophisticated, childless woman who understood his career ambitions and shared his lifestyle. She had worked tirelessly to erase any trace of Nancy Peterson from his life, building their relationship on the foundation of lies she had constructed.
«Who is this child, Kevin?» Susan asked, her voice carefully controlled but with an underlying edge of panic.
Kevin stood up slowly, the letter still clutched in his hand. «Susan, this is Dorothy. Dorothy, this is Miss Osborne.» He couldn’t bring himself to call Susan his girlfriend in front of the child who might be his daughter.
Dorothy studied Susan with the frank curiosity of a child, unaware of the adult tensions swirling around her. «Are you the boss man’s wife?» she asked innocently.
Susan’s laugh was sharp and forced. «Not yet, sweetheart, but hopefully someday.» She moved closer to Kevin’s desk, her eyes scanning the letter in his hands. «Kevin, what’s going on here? Why is there a child in your office?»
Kevin looked at Dorothy, then at Susan, feeling the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders. «Dorothy brought me a letter from her mother. Her mother claims that Dorothy is my daughter.»
The words hung in the air like a live wire. Susan’s composure cracked for just a moment, revealing the calculating panic beneath her polished exterior. She had spent years ensuring that Kevin would never discover the truth about Nancy, never learn about the child they had created together. And now, here was Dorothy, living proof of everything Susan had worked to hide.
«Kevin, surely you don’t believe…» Susan began, but Kevin held up his hand to silence her.
«Dorothy,» Kevin said, kneeling down to the child’s eye level. «Can you tell me about your mommy? Is she very sick?»
Dorothy’s lower lip trembled slightly, the first crack in the facade she had maintained all morning. «She gets really tired all the time, and sometimes she can’t eat. She tries to hide it when she cries, but I hear her at night. The doctors keep giving her medicine, but it doesn’t seem to help very much.»
Kevin felt his heart breaking at the child’s words. Whether or not Dorothy was his biological daughter, she was clearly a little girl in crisis, dealing with adult problems that no child should have to face. «Where do you live, Dorothy? How did you get here today?»
«We live in an apartment on Capitol Hill. Mommy gave me money for the bus, and she wrote down the directions for me. She said I’m a very smart girl and that I could find you all by myself.» Dorothy’s pride in her accomplishment was evident, despite the circumstances that had brought her there.
Kevin’s mind reeled at the thought of a seven-year-old navigating the Seattle bus system alone, carrying what might be the most important letter of his life. The courage it must have taken for Dorothy to make that journey, and for Nancy to send her, spoke to a desperation that cut him to the core.
«Kevin,» Susan interjected, her voice tight with barely controlled emotion. «You can’t possibly be considering that this child is yours. Remember what the doctors told you years ago. You can’t have children.»
But Kevin was no longer listening to Susan. He was lost in Dorothy’s eyes, seeing in them the echo of every dream he had abandoned when he believed he could never be a father. The child standing before him represented the possibility of everything he had convinced himself he didn’t want because it was impossible to have.
«Dorothy,» he said gently. «Would you like to call your mommy and let her know you’re safe? I think I’d like to meet her.»
Dorothy’s face lit up with the first genuine smile Kevin had seen from her. «Really? Mommy said you might not want to see us. She said you’re a very important man with lots of important things to do.»
«There’s nothing more important than this,» Kevin said, surprised by the conviction in his own voice. «Nothing at all.»
As Kevin reached for his phone to call Nancy, Susan grabbed his arm with desperate intensity. «Kevin, please, think about this rationally. You have a company to run, a life we’ve built together. You can’t just throw everything away based on a letter from a woman who broke your heart eight years ago.»
Kevin looked at Susan’s perfectly manicured hand on his arm, then at Dorothy’s small, trusting face. For the first time in years, the choice seemed crystal clear. «Susan, cancel my afternoon appointments. Dorothy and I are going to visit her mother.»
The drive to Capitol Hill was tense and silent. Kevin had insisted that Susan stay at the office despite her protests and demands to accompany them. He drove his black BMW through the Seattle traffic with unusual care, constantly glancing in his rearview mirror at Dorothy, who sat in the back seat in a borrowed child safety seat that Margaret had somehow produced from the company’s emergency supplies.
Dorothy directed him through the winding streets of Capitol Hill with surprising confidence, her small voice providing directions over the quiet hum of classical music from Kevin’s radio. As they drove deeper into the residential neighborhood, Kevin noticed the gradual change from the polished business district to the more modest apartment buildings and small houses that characterized this part of the city.
«Turn here,» Dorothy said, as they approached a tree-lined street filled with older apartment complexes. «We live in the blue building with the white steps.»
Kevin parked in front of a modest three-story building that had seen better days. The blue paint was faded and peeling in places, and the small front yard was more dirt than grass. It was a world away from Kevin’s luxury penthouse, but there was something about the building’s obvious attempts at maintenance—flower boxes in some windows, a carefully swept front walkway—that spoke to residents who cared about their home despite its limitations.
Dorothy led him up two flights of narrow stairs, her small legs taking the steps with practiced ease. The hallway was dimly lit and smelled of cleaning products and cooking spices, a mixture of lives being lived in close proximity. They stopped in front of apartment 3B, and Dorothy pulled a small key from her pocket.
«Mommy,» she called as she opened the door. «I brought someone to see you, just like you asked.»
The apartment was tiny but meticulously clean, with sunlight streaming through windows that faced east toward downtown Seattle. The furniture was obviously secondhand but carefully arranged, and children’s drawings were taped to the refrigerator and walls. It was clearly a home filled with love, even if it lacked material abundance.
Nancy Cromwell emerged from what Kevin assumed was the bedroom, and the sight of her hit him like a physical blow. She had always been beautiful, but now she was ethereally fragile, her blonde hair thin and wispy from chemotherapy, her green eyes too large for her gaunt face. She wore a simple blue sweater and jeans that hung loosely on her diminished frame, but her smile when she saw Dorothy was radiant.
«Dorothy, sweetheart, you made it back safely,» Nancy said, kneeling down to embrace her daughter. Then her eyes met Kevin’s over Dorothy’s head, and the years seemed to collapse between them. «Hello, Kevin,» Nancy said softly, her voice carrying the same melodic quality he remembered, but with an undertone of exhaustion that broke his heart.
