BILLIONAIRE TRAVELED WITH HIS FIANCÉE TO CELEBRATE THE NEW YEAR—UNTIL HE MET HIS EX HOLDING A BABY

Billionaire traveled with his fiancée to celebrate the new year until he met his ex holding a baby.

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The ocean breeze carried the scent of salt and something Sebastian Hail couldn’t name, something that felt dangerously close to nostalgia. He stood on the terrace of the Ocean View Grand, watching waves crash against the shore as the December sun began its descent, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose.

This place, of all the hotels in his international chain, it had to be this one.

Vanessa appeared beside him, her diamond engagement ring catching the fading light. Everything about her was polished, from her perfectly straightened blonde hair to her designer sundress that probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent.

“Sebastian, darling, your mother just texted. She wants to know if we’ve settled in properly.”

Sebastian didn’t answer immediately. His dark eyes remained fixed on the horizon, his jaw tight beneath two days of stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave.

At 42, he carried himself with the quiet authority of a man who’d built an empire from inherited wealth, turning his family’s modest hotel business into a luxury brand recognized across three continents. Six feet tall, broad-shouldered, with salt-and-pepper hair swept back from a face that photographers loved and business rivals envied, Sebastian Hail looked every inch the billionaire he was.

But right now, he felt like a man who’d walked into a trap of his own making.

“I suggested the Maldives,” he said quietly. “I suggested Aspen. I even suggested staying in the city.”

Vanessa laughed, a sound like wind chimes.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. Your mother thought it would be lovely to celebrate New Year’s at one of your own properties, and I agreed. It shows confidence in your brand.”

His mother. Always his mother.

Sebastian’s fingers tightened around the terrace railing. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He commanded boardrooms, negotiated multi-million-dollar deals, expanded his empire to 17 countries, yet somehow, when it came to his personal life, he still found himself following someone else’s road map.

First his mother’s suggestions, then Vanessa’s preferences, and always, always that nagging voice in the back of his mind asking when he’d started living a life designed by committee.

“I’m going for a walk,” he said, already moving toward the beach access.

Vanessa blinked, startled.

“Now? But we have dinner reservations at eight and I need to—”

“I’ll be back.”

The sand was cool beneath his leather loafers, expensive, impractical shoes for a beach walk. But Sebastian hadn’t exactly planned this moment. He’d planned nothing about this trip except how to avoid it.

Two years. He’d successfully avoided this stretch of coastline for two years.

The Ocean View Grand sat in a small tourist town called Crescent Bay, about two hours north of the city. It wasn’t his flagship property, not even close, but it had been one of the first hotels he’d personally renovated after taking full control of the company.

He’d spent three months here overseeing every detail, from the lobby’s reclaimed driftwood accents to the locally sourced restaurant menu.

And he’d met her.

Norah Wittmann, 26 then, 30 now, a woman who’d walked into his carefully controlled world and somehow made everything else seem less important.

She’d been working at a small café two blocks from the hotel. Not because she needed the money, particularly, but because she loved the rhythm of it. The early mornings. The regular customers. The satisfaction of making someone’s day better with the perfect cappuccino.

She’d had dreams then, too. Talked about opening her own place someday, something small and welcoming, where people felt like family.

Sebastian could still see her clearly: warm ivory skin that flushed pink when she laughed, chestnut hair that fell in natural waves past her shoulders, eyes the color of aged whiskey catching sunlight. She’d worn simple clothes—jeans and soft sweaters—nothing designer, and moved through the world with an ease he’d envied.

No performance. No pretense. Just Norah, exactly as she was.

She’d been the first woman in years who didn’t care about his last name or his bank account. She’d fallen for the man who showed up at her café every morning, the one who fumbled his words when nervous, who admitted he didn’t actually like olives despite ordering them on everything to seem sophisticated.

They’d been together two years, the best two years of his life.

Until his mother made it clear that Norah Wittmann, lovely as she might be, wasn’t suitable for a man of Sebastian’s position.

Until the pressure mounted.

Until Sebastian, in a moment of weakness and confusion he’d regretted every day since, had ended it badly, coldly, in a way that still made him sick to remember.

He’d blocked her number, blocked her messages, refused to see her when she came to his office. He’d told himself it was necessary, a clean break, no drawn-out pain.

What he’d really been doing was running.

Sebastian stopped walking, suddenly aware that his feet had carried him to a familiar spot. The old pier stretched into the water fifty yards ahead, its weathered wood silvered by years of salt and sun.

He and Norah used to sit at the end of it, legs dangling over the edge, talking about everything and nothing until the stars came out.

“Mr. Hail.”

Sebastian turned to find one of the hotel staff approaching, a young man in the Ocean View Grand uniform.

“Sorry to interrupt your walk, sir. There’s an issue with one of the penthouse suites—the champagne service for the New Year’s Eve gala. The manager wanted your input.”

Of course. Even on vacation, he was never really off duty.

“I’ll be right there,” Sebastian said, taking one last look at the pier.

He didn’t know then. Couldn’t have known that less than 24 hours later, he’d see her again. That the universe or fate or simple coincidence would put them in the same hotel lobby during the New Year’s countdown, and that she wouldn’t be alone.

As Sebastian walked back toward the hotel, the first evening stars beginning to appear overhead, he had no idea that everything he thought he’d left behind was about to come crashing back. Not with accusations or anger, but with the weight of a truth he’d refused to hear.

A truth that had been waiting, patient and inevitable, for exactly this moment.

Have you ever run from something, only to realize you were running toward the one thing you needed to face? Share your thoughts in the comments.

Norah Wittmann woke to the sound of waves and a tiny hand patting her cheek.

“Mama, mama, up.”

She opened her eyes to find Lily’s face inches from her own, round cheeks flushed with sleep, dark curls wild around her head.

And those eyes. Those impossibly deep brown eyes that were nothing like Norah’s whiskey-colored ones.

Those were Sebastian’s eyes.

“Exactly.”

“Good morning, little love,” Norah whispered, pulling her daughter close and breathing in that sweet baby scent—milk and lavender soap and something uniquely Lily.

At 17 months old, she was all energy and curiosity. A tiny force of nature packed into 22 pounds of determination.

Norah sat up slowly, letting the reality of where they were sink in. The hotel room was modest, not a suite, just a standard room with an ocean view she’d splurged on because this trip mattered.

The Ocean View Grand. The same hotel where she’d first fallen in love with a man who’d seemed untouchable until he wasn’t.

She was 30 now, though some days she felt decades older. Two years of single motherhood would do that. Not that she regretted a single moment with Lily. Her daughter was the brightest thing in her world, the reason she got up every morning, the reason she’d learned to be stronger than she ever thought possible.

Norah caught her reflection in the mirror as she lifted Lily from the bed. She looked tired. There was no denying that—dark circles under her eyes that concealer couldn’t quite hide.

Her chestnut hair was pulled into a messy bun because who had time for anything else with a toddler? She’d lost weight since having Lily, not from trying, but from the constant motion of motherhood.

Her favorite jeans hung looser on her hips, and the simple cream sweater she’d planned to wear tonight suddenly seemed too plain.

“Stop it,” she told herself. “You’re not here to impress anyone.”

Except that was a lie, wasn’t it?

She knew he was here. Had known the moment she made the reservation.

The Ocean View Grand’s New Year’s Eve gala was legendary in Crescent Bay, an exclusive event that Sebastian himself usually attended when he visited the property. Norah had checked the society pages, cross-referenced travel schedules mentioned in business journals.

She’d done her research with the thoroughness of a woman who’d been waiting two years for the right moment.

And when she’d seen the announcement that Sebastian Hail would be hosting this year’s celebration with his fiancée, something in Norah’s chest had tightened and released all at once.

It was time.

“Let’s get some breakfast, sweet girl,” Norah said, dressing Lily in soft pink overalls and a white turtleneck.

Her daughter was beautiful, would grow up to break hearts, Norah was certain. She had Sebastian’s dramatic coloring, his thick dark hair, his intensity even at this young age.

But she had Norah’s smile, her gentle disposition, her habit of humming tunelessly when content.

The hotel’s breakfast buffet was less crowded than Norah expected for December 30th. Most guests were probably sleeping in before tonight’s big celebration.

She found a table by the window, settling Lily into a high chair and cutting up pieces of pancake into tiny, manageable bites.

“Ma!” Lily shouted happily, banging her plastic spoon against the tray.

“Inside voice, love,” Norah murmured, though she couldn’t help smiling.

Lily didn’t have an inside voice yet. Everything was exclamation and enthusiasm.

“She’s adorable.”

Norah looked up to find an older woman at the next table, silver-haired and elegant in a way that spoke of old money and good breeding. She was smiling at Lily with genuine warmth.

“Thank you,” Norah said. “She’s spirited.”

“The best ones always are.” The woman tilted her head. “Are you here for the gala tonight?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Wonderful. My son owns the hotel. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time. He puts on quite a show.”

The woman’s smile remained pleasant, but something in her eyes sharpened.

“Are you here with family?”

There was a question beneath the question.

Norah had become fluent in reading subtext since becoming a single mother.

“Just the two of us,” Norah said evenly, meeting the woman’s gaze.

“My daughter and I.”

“How nice.” The woman’s tone suggested it was anything but.

She returned to her coffee, conversation clearly over.

Norah felt the familiar flush of shame and anger. Shame that she hated herself for feeling. Anger at a world that still judged single mothers while giving single fathers medals for showing up.

She focused on Lily, on wiping sticky syrup from those perfect little fingers, on the simple joy of her daughter’s laughter when she made funny faces.

This was why she’d waited. Why she hadn’t shown up at Sebastian’s office with a baby in her arms, hadn’t sent lawyers or demanded anything.

Because Lily deserved better than being a scandal, better than being the mistake that trapped a billionaire, better than growing up knowing she was the source of someone’s resentment.

Norah had tried to tell him.

God, she’d tried.

She could still remember those desperate days after the breakup, discovering she was pregnant just 72 hours after Sebastian had ended things. The shock of seeing two pink lines on the test, the way her hands had shaken as she’d called his number only to find herself blocked.

She’d tried texting from a friend’s phone. Nothing. She’d gone to his office in the city, waited three hours in the lobby until security escorted her out.

She’d even written a letter, an actual handwritten letter, and mailed it to his corporate address.

Never received a reply.

At some point, Norah had realized that Sebastian didn’t want to hear from her. Didn’t want explanations or closure or anything else she might offer.

He’d made his choice, influenced by his mother’s clear disapproval, pressured by expectations Norah would never meet.

So she’d made her own choice.

She would raise Lily alone. Would love her fiercely. Would build a good life for them both.

And when the time was right, when Lily was old enough that Norah could look Sebastian in the eye without falling apart, she would tell him the truth.

Not because he deserved to know, but because Lily deserved to have the option of knowing her father, if he proved worthy of that privilege.

“All done, mama,” Lily announced, shoving her plate away with syrup-covered hands.

Norah cleaned her up, collected their things, and headed back to their room to prepare for the day. She’d planned to walk on the beach, maybe visit the old café where she used to work.

It had new owners now, but the building was the same, and there was something comforting about revisiting the places where she’d been happy, where they’d been happy together.

As she pushed the elevator button, Lily on her hip, Norah caught sight of herself in the polished brass doors.

She looked like what she was: a young mother, slightly overwhelmed, doing her best.

Her sweater had a small stain near the collar that she’d missed. Her hair was escaping its bun. She wore minimal makeup because there was never time for more.

She was nothing like the Norah who’d captivated Sebastian Hail three years ago.

That Norah had been carefree, confident in a way that came from not yet knowing how hard life could be.

This Norah had stretch marks and sleepless nights written into her skin, had traded dreams of her own café for the reality of managing a busy office job that paid the bills and offered decent insurance.

But this Norah was also stronger, braver, more certain of who she was and what she was capable of.

The elevator doors opened. Norah stepped inside, adjusting Lily on her hip.

Tonight at the gala, she would see him again.

She didn’t know if he’d even recognize her. Didn’t know if he’d care. Engaged as he was to someone else.

Didn’t know if the sight of Lily would mean anything to him at all.

But she’d waited two years for this moment. Had chosen this hotel, this date with careful intention, because some truths couldn’t be delivered through lawyers or letters or angry confrontations.

Some truths needed to be spoken face-to-face in the place where their story had begun, with the living proof of their love.

However briefly it had burned right there between them.

As the elevator climbed, Lily started humming that tuneless song she loved, patting Norah’s shoulder in rhythm.

Norah closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing.

Tonight, everything would change tonight.

She just hoped they were both ready for it.

Sebastian stood in the hotel’s executive office, staring at a spreadsheet that might as well have been written in ancient Greek for all the attention he was paying it.

“The projections for Q1 look strong,” his regional manager was saying, gesturing at numbers that Sebastian usually analyzed with laser focus. “We’re expecting a 15% increase in bookings for the coastal properties, especially with the new marketing campaign.”

“Mhm.”

“And we’re considering adding a petting zoo to the lobby.”

Sebastian nodded absently.

“Sir. I just said petting zoo.”

That got his attention.

Sebastian looked up, finding Marcus Chen, his most trusted regional manager, watching him with barely concealed amusement.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said in the last ten minutes,” Marcus observed.

“I heard some of it.”

“Want to tell me what’s actually on your mind? Because in the five years I’ve worked for you, I’ve never seen you this distracted during a business review.”

Sebastian leaned back in the leather chair, running a hand through his hair.

Marcus was right. He was completely unfocused. His mind stuck in a loop of memories he’d spent two years trying to bury.

Walking these hallways felt like moving through a museum of his own past. There was the corner where he’d first kissed Norah, unable to wait another second after walking her back from dinner.

The terrace where they’d watched the sunrise after talking all night. The service elevator they’d used to sneak up to his room, laughing like teenagers even though they were fully grown adults.

“Personal matter,” Sebastian said finally. “Nothing that affects business.”

“Does this personal matter have anything to do with the fact that you look like you’re attending a funeral instead of celebrating New Year’s Eve at one of your most successful properties?”

Before Sebastian could answer, his phone buzzed.

A text from Vanessa.

Where are you? I need your opinion on my dress for tonight. The blue or the silver?

He typed back quickly.

Either one. You’ll look beautiful.

Vanessa immediately replied.

Vanessa: that’s not helpful, Sebastian. This is an important event.

Important for whom? He wanted to ask.

Instead, he pocketed his phone.

“You should head back to your fiancée,” Marcus said, not unkindly. “I can handle the rest of the preparations for tonight.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian stood, buttoning his suit jacket. “Thanks, Marcus.”

“Sir, can I give you some completely unsolicited advice?”

“Have I ever been able to stop you?” Sebastian asked, a faint smile tugging at his mouth despite everything.

Marcus smiled.

“Whatever you’re running from, it tends to catch up eventually. Might be better to turn around and face it head-on.”

Sebastian left the office without responding, but the words followed him through the lobby, past the concierge desk toward the elevator that would take him back to the suite where Vanessa was no doubt waiting with fabric swatches and seating charts.

He pressed the button and waited, watching the numbers descend.

Beside him, a young couple stood close together, the man’s arm around the woman’s waist, her head resting on his shoulder. They looked completely absorbed in each other, oblivious to the luxury surrounding them.

Sebastian felt something twist in his chest.

He and Vanessa didn’t stand like that. Didn’t touch with that kind of unconscious ease. Their relationship was carefully choreographed—appropriate handholding at charity galas, a kiss on the cheek for photographers, separate hotel rooms until after the wedding because Vanessa believed in maintaining tradition.

His mother approved completely.

The elevator arrived. Sebastian stepped in alone. The couple had wandered off toward the beach, clearly in no hurry to be anywhere but together.

When had he become this person? This man who scheduled intimacy and outsourced decisions about his own life, who got engaged to a woman he respected but didn’t quite love because it made sense on paper, because his mother thought she was suitable, because at 42 he was supposed to be settling down and producing heirs.

The elevator doors opened on the penthouse level. Sebastian walked slowly toward his suite, each step feeling heavier than the last.

He found Vanessa in the bedroom, surrounded by shopping bags and tissue paper, holding up two evening gowns. She looked up when he entered, her expression brightening.

“Finally. Okay, honest opinion—the midnight blue with the silver beading or the champagne silk with the open back?”

Both dresses probably cost more than most people earned in a month. Both were beautiful in that generic fashion magazine way. Both would photograph well.

“The blue,” Sebastian said, because he had to choose something.

“Really? I was leaning toward the champagne. It’s more unique, don’t you think?”

Then why ask me? Sebastian thought, but didn’t say.

“Wear whichever one makes you happy, Vanessa.”

She frowned slightly.

“You’ve been distant all day. Is something wrong?”

Everything, Sebastian thought. But what he said was:

“Just work stress. You know how it is.”

“Well, try to relax. Tonight is supposed to be fun.”

Vanessa returned to examining the dresses, already dismissing his mood as she’d dismissed most of his actual feelings throughout their relationship.

It wasn’t her fault, really. She was exactly who she’d always been: beautiful, polished, socially adept, born into the same world of privilege and expectation that had shaped Sebastian’s entire life.

She would be a perfect wife on paper, would host flawless dinner parties and manage their social calendar with the precision of a military operation, would probably produce attractive, well-mannered children who attended the right schools and married into the right families.

And Sebastian would wake up twenty years from now wondering where his actual life had gone.

His phone rang. His mother’s name flashed on the screen.

“I should take this,” he said, stepping out onto the private balcony.

“Sebastian, darling, I just wanted to confirm that you received the updated guest list for tonight. The Kensingtons will be attending. You remember Thomas Kensington? He’s very interested in potentially investing in your Dubai expansion.”

“Mom, tonight is supposed to be personal. A celebration.”

“Business and pleasure don’t have to be mutually exclusive. You’re there anyway. Might as well make useful connections.”

She paused.

“Is Vanessa being helpful with the hosting duties? I know she can be a bit particular about things.”

Particular. That was one word for it.

“She’s fine, Mom.”

“Good. You know, Sebastian, I’m very proud of the choices you’ve been making lately. Vanessa is exactly the kind of woman who can support a man in your position—stable, from a good family. She understands what’s expected.”

Unlike Norah, his mother didn’t say, but the implication hung in the air anyway.

They’d had this conversation two years ago when Sebastian had first mentioned Norah. His mother’s disapproval had been immediate and absolute.

A waitress from some nobody family with no connections, no pedigree, nothing to offer except what?

Love.

Love didn’t build empires. Love didn’t protect legacies. Love, according to his mother, was something people grew out of once they understood how the real world worked.

“I should go, Mom. I’ll see you tonight at the gala.”

“Remember to smile in the photos, dear. You always look so serious.”

Sebastian ended the call and stood on the balcony, looking out at the ocean.

The afternoon sun painted everything golden. The same light that had illuminated Norah’s face when they’d stood on the beach together, talking about dreams and futures that now felt like they’d belonged to different people.

He pulled out his phone again, not to make a call, but to look at something he’d kept hidden in a locked folder for two years.

A photo. The only one he’d saved.

Norah on the pier, sunset behind her, laughing at something he’d said. Her hair was windblown, her expression completely unguarded.

She looked radiant. Real. Nothing like the carefully curated women who filled his current social circle.

He’d taken the photo without her knowing, wanting to capture that moment of pure, unself-conscious joy.

Looking at it now felt like staring at evidence of his own cowardice.

Sebastian deleted the photo, then immediately restored it from Recently Deleted, then deleted it again.

This was pathetic.

He was engaged. Committed. Moving forward with his life, making the practical choices that adults made, putting away childish ideas about passion and connection and finding someone who truly understood him.

Except nothing about the last two years had felt right.

Nothing about Vanessa’s ring on his finger felt like it fit.

Nothing about his mother’s approval filled the hollow space that had opened up in his chest the day he’d blocked Norah’s number and refused to hear whatever she’d been trying to tell him.

“Sebastian.”

Vanessa appeared in the balcony doorway.

“Are you coming back inside? I need help with the clasp on this necklace.”

“Yeah,” he said, pocketing his phone. “I’m coming.”

As he followed Vanessa back into the suite, Sebastian caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked tired, older than 42, like a man going through the motions of a life that belonged to someone else.

In six hours, the gala would begin. Two hundred guests, champagne, fireworks, the carefully orchestrated countdown to midnight and a new year that promised to be exactly like the old one.

Sebastian straightened his tie and tried to ignore the growing certainty that he was standing on the edge of something he couldn’t name, something that felt dangerously close to breaking point.

He just didn’t know yet that the break was already coming, that it would arrive in the form of whiskey-colored eyes and a truth he’d refused to hear, that by midnight nothing would ever be the same again.

The ballroom of the Ocean View Grand had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across ivory and gold decorations, while floor-to-ceiling windows offered an unobstructed view of the ocean beyond.

Round tables draped in champagne silk surrounded a dance floor that gleamed like polished glass.

Everywhere Norah looked, there was elegance, wealth, and the kind of effortless sophistication that made her feel like an impostor.

She’d almost turned back three times before entering.

The dress she wore, a simple emerald green number she’d found on sale, suddenly felt cheap under these lights. She’d done her best with makeup, swept her hair into a low, sleek bun, added the pearl earrings her grandmother had left her.

But standing in the entrance to the ballroom, watching women in designer gowns glide past on the arms of men in bespoke tuxedos, Norah felt every inch the outsider she was.

“Ticket, ma’am.”

A young attendant smiled at her expectantly.

Norah fumbled in her small clutch, producing the ticket she’d purchased weeks ago. Two hundred dollars she probably shouldn’t have spent, but this night mattered.

She handed it over, received a table number, and stepped into the glittering crowd.

Lily was safe with the hotel’s childcare service, a luxury Norah had researched extensively before trusting. She’d left three bottles, extra diapers, Lily’s favorite stuffed elephant, and detailed instructions.

The attendant had assured her they’d call if anything went wrong.

Norah had checked her phone 17 times already.

“Champagne?”

A server appeared at her elbow with a tray of crystal flutes.

“Thank you.”

Norah took one, more for something to hold than any desire to drink. Her stomach was twisted in knots, her pulse thrumming with anticipation and dread in equal measure.

He was here somewhere in this crowd, and she was about to face him for the first time in two years.

Norah found her assigned table near the back of the ballroom, appropriate given she was probably the least important person here. She sat down, smoothing her dress, trying to breathe normally.

Around her, the room buzzed with conversation and laughter. The band played something smooth and jazzy. People danced, mingled, posed for photos in front of a backdrop adorned with 2026 in glittering numbers.

Then she saw him.

Sebastian stood near the center of the room, commanding attention without seeming to try. He wore a black tuxedo that fit him perfectly, his salt-and-pepper hair swept back, his posture radiating the confidence of a man who owned not just this hotel, but half the world.

He was speaking with an older couple, his expression polite but distant. The same look he used to wear at business events when he wanted to be anywhere else.

Norah’s breath caught.

Two years.

It had been two years since she’d seen him in person, and the impact of it hit her like a physical force. He looked exactly the same—those dark eyes, that strong jawline, the way he held himself like he was perpetually aware of being watched.

But there was something different, too, something harder around his edges, a tightness in his shoulders that spoke of burdens carried too long.

He looked unhappy.

That realization settled into Norah’s chest with unexpected weight.

Before she could process it further, a woman appeared at Sebastian’s side, sliding her arm through his with practiced ease.

Blonde. Stunning. Dripping in diamonds that caught the chandelier light.

She wore a champagne-colored gown that probably cost more than Norah’s car, and she fit against Sebastian like she belonged there.

Vanessa. His fiancée.

Norah had seen photos online. Of course, society pages loved the engagement of Sebastian Hail to Vanessa Montgomery—old money meeting older money, a merger as much as a marriage.

But seeing her in person was different.

She was beautiful in that intimidating, untouchable way. Not a hair out of place, not a gesture unrefined.

Everything Norah wasn’t.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the band leader’s voice rang out across the ballroom, “in just two hours, we’ll be counting down to the new year. But first, our host for the evening, Mr. Sebastian Hail, would like to say a few words.”

Polite applause rippled through the crowd as Sebastian moved toward the small stage. He walked with that familiar confidence, but Norah caught something, a hesitation, maybe, a fractional pause before he took the microphone.

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for joining us at the Ocean View Grand to celebrate the arrival of 2026.”

His voice.

God, his voice.

Norah had forgotten how it could slide under her skin, rich and warm, even through the formal words.

“This property has always held a special place in my heart,” Sebastian continued. His gaze swept the room. “It was one of the first hotels I personally renovated, and I spent several months here, ensuring every detail was perfect.”

“In that time, I fell in love.”

Norah’s heart stopped.

“With this community, this coastline, and the incredible people who make Crescent Bay what it is.”

Of course. The community, not her.

Why would it be her?

“So thank you for being here tonight. I hope you enjoy the evening, and I wish you all happiness and prosperity in the coming year.”

More applause.

Sebastian handed back the microphone and was immediately swallowed by the crowd—people wanting to shake his hand, congratulate him, angle for his attention.

Norah exhaled slowly, her champagne untouched, her hands trembling slightly.

This was a mistake.

What had she been thinking? That she’d walk up to him in the middle of his engagement party and what? Announce she’d had his baby?

That would go over well.

She stood abruptly, ready to leave, to collect Lily and drive home and forget this entire foolish idea.

“Norah.”

The voice came from behind her. Female. Familiar.

Norah turned to find Sarah Chen, Marcus Chen’s wife, and one of the few friends she’d made during her time in Crescent Bay. They’d worked together at the café, had stayed in touch sporadically after Norah left.

“Sarah. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Marcus is Sebastian’s regional manager. We get dragged to all these things.”

Sarah hugged her warmly, then pulled back with bright eyes.

“Oh my god, look at you. You look beautiful. How have you been? How’s—”

She stopped, clearly catching herself.

“Lily’s wonderful,” Norah said quietly. “She’s 17 months now. Growing so fast.”

Sarah’s expression softened with understanding. She was one of the few people who knew the whole story, had been there when Norah discovered she was pregnant, had listened to her cry about blocked phone numbers and returned letters.

“Does he know you’re here?” Sarah whispered.

“Not yet.”

Sarah winced. “Norah.”

“I know. I know it’s crazy, but I can’t keep doing this, Sarah. She’s getting older. She asks questions. She deserves to know who her father is, and he deserves—”

Norah stopped, emotion threatening to crack her voice.

“He deserves the choice.”

Even if he chooses to walk away.

Sarah squeezed her hand.

“You’re braver than I could ever be.”

The band shifted into something slower. Couples moved onto the dance floor.

Norah watched Sebastian dance with Vanessa. Their movements were polished, but somehow mechanical, like they’d rehearsed it, like everything between them was choreographed.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Norah turned to find an elderly woman gesturing to the empty chair beside her. It took Norah a moment to recognize her.

The woman from the breakfast buffet that morning.

Sebastian’s mother.

“Oh, no, please—”

Norah’s heart hammered as the woman sat down.

“We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Catherine Hail.”

She extended a perfectly manicured hand.

Norah shook it, her throat tight.

“Norah Wittmann.”

“Wittmann.” Catherine’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That name sounds familiar.”

Of course it did.

Norah had no doubt Sebastian’s mother had thoroughly investigated the inappropriate woman her son had been dating two years ago.

“I used to live in Crescent Bay,” Norah said carefully.

“How lovely. Are you visiting for the holidays?”

“Yes. With my daughter.”

“Ah, yes. The adorable child from breakfast.” Catherine’s smile didn’t waver, but something sharp flickered in her eyes. “She must be what, about a year old?”

“Seventeen months.”

Catherine’s smile still didn’t waver.

“Children are such blessings. Though I imagine raising one alone must be quite challenging.”

The judgment was subtle but unmistakable.

Norah met the older woman’s gaze evenly.

“I manage.”

“I’m sure you do.” Catherine paused delicately. “Forgive me for asking… but is the father involved?”

The question hung in the air between them, loaded with implications.

Before Norah could answer, the lights dimmed. The band leader returned to the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re now approaching the final 15 minutes of 2025. Please make your way to the windows or the outdoor terrace for the best view of the fireworks display. And don’t forget to grab your champagne for the midnight toast.”

The crowd surged toward the windows and glass doors leading outside.

Norah stood, grateful for the interruption, her heart racing.

“Excuse me,” she murmured to Catherine, moving away before the woman could ask more questions.

She needed air. Needed to think. Needed to figure out how she was possibly going to approach Sebastian in this circus of people and money and expectations she could never meet.

Norah made her way through the crowd, slipping through the doors onto the outdoor terrace.

The ocean breeze hit her immediately, cool and salt-tinged, grounding her.

She moved to the railing, away from the clusters of guests, and looked out at the dark water. Fireworks would launch from a barge offshore. The hotel had spared no expense.

“Ten minutes to midnight,” someone called from inside.

Norah closed her eyes, gathering her courage. When she opened them, she’d go back in. She’d find Sebastian. She’d tell him.

Whatever happened after that—

“Norah.”

Her eyes flew open.

Sebastian stood three feet away, his expression frozen in shock, like he’d seen a ghost.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The party noise faded to background static. The ocean whispered against the shore.

Somewhere people were laughing, counting down, celebrating.

But in this moment, there was only silence and the weight of two years worth of words unsaid.

“Sebastian,” Norah whispered, and her voice cracked on his name.

Sebastian couldn’t breathe.

Of all the scenarios he’d imagined, of all the possibilities he’d turned over in his mind during sleepless nights, this wasn’t one of them. Norah here at his hotel, wearing a dress the color of deep forest shade that made her skin glow in the terrace lights.

Her hair swept up, revealing the curve of her neck he’d once kissed.

Those eyes. God, those whiskey-colored eyes, watching him with an expression he couldn’t read.

She looked different—older, maybe more worn around the edges—but still beautiful in that way that had nothing to do with designer clothes or professional makeup.

Still completely, devastatingly her.

“What are you doing here?” The words came out rougher than he intended.

Norah flinched slightly, her fingers tightening on the railing.

“I bought a ticket. Same as everyone else.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.”

The silence stretched between them, filled with the distant sounds of the party, the crash of waves, the thunder of Sebastian’s own heartbeat.

“You look good,” he said finally, because what else could he say?

“I’ve thought about you every day for two years. I deleted and restored your photo a hundred times. I made the biggest mistake of my life when I let you go.”

“So do you,” Norah said, her voice steady, though he caught the slight tremor in it.

“Engaged. Successful. Everything you wanted.”

The bitterness in those last words cut him.

“Norah, don’t—”

She held up a hand.

“Please don’t explain. You made your choice. You have every right to move on with your life.”

“Then why are you here?”

Sebastian took a step closer, frustration bleeding through his carefully maintained control.

“Why come back to this place tonight of all nights if you just want me to—what? Pretend we never happened?”

“Because I needed to tell you something.” Norah’s composure cracked slightly. “Because I tried to tell you two years ago and you wouldn’t listen. You blocked me, Sebastian. Everywhere. You refused to see me. To hear me.”

“I know.” The admission tasted like ash. “I know I did.”

He stopped, the apology catching in his throat. Sorry seemed inadequate for the magnitude of what he’d done.

“I was a coward.”

Norah’s eyes widened slightly, like she’d expected anything but honesty.

“I was hurt and confused and letting my mother make decisions I should have made myself,” Sebastian continued, the words tumbling out now. “I convinced myself cutting contact was cleaner, kinder somehow, that we’d both move on faster if there was no—”

“I was pregnant.”

The world stopped.

Sebastian heard the words, understood them individually, but couldn’t make them form coherent meaning.

“Pregnant?” His voice came out strangled.

“I found out three days after you ended things.” Norah’s hands were shaking now, her carefully maintained composure dissolving. “I tried to tell you. I called from my phone—blocked. I borrowed Sarah’s phone—you didn’t answer. I came to your office—security escorted me out. I sent a letter to your corporate address.”

“I never got a letter.”

“Your assistant probably threw it away. Or your mother intercepted it.” Norah swallowed hard. “Does it matter?”

Tears sparkled in Norah’s eyes, but she blinked them back furiously.

“You made it very clear you wanted nothing to do with me.”

Sebastian felt like he was falling, the terrace tilting beneath his feet.

“You were pregnant. You—what happened?”

Something in Norah’s expression shifted, softened and hardened simultaneously.

“What happened,” she said quietly, “is that I had a baby girl seventeen months ago. Alone. Because her father wouldn’t take my calls.”

The air left Sebastian’s lungs in a rush.

A baby. A daughter. His daughter.

“Where?” He couldn’t form complete sentences. “Where is she?”

“In the hotel’s childcare service. I wasn’t going to bring a toddler to a formal gala.”

“I have a daughter.” Sebastian said it out loud, testing the weight of the words. They felt impossible and inevitable all at once.

“I have a daughter and you didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” Norah’s voice sharpened. “Didn’t chase you down? Didn’t hire lawyers to force a paternity test? Didn’t show up at your engagement party with a baby in my arms and make a scene?”

“I would have if you’d told me.”

“I tried to tell you.” The words exploded out of her, loud enough that a few guests near the terrace doors glanced over curiously.

Norah lowered her voice, but the intensity remained.

“I tried everything, Sebastian. But you built walls I couldn’t climb. So I made a choice. I decided my daughter deserved better than being the scandal that trapped a billionaire. Better than growing up knowing she wasn’t wanted.”

“I would have wanted—”

Sebastian stopped, hearing how hollow it sounded.

Would he have wanted her? Two years ago, when he was still letting his mother dictate his choices, still running from anything that complicated his carefully ordered life, he wanted to say yes.

But the truth was, he didn’t know.

“Her name is Lily,” Norah said softly. “She has your eyes, your hair, your stubborn determination to get what she wants.”

A small, sad smile crossed her face.

“She’s beautiful, Sebastian. Perfect. And she’s been the greatest gift of my life, even though raising her alone has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Sebastian’s throat closed.

“Can I… can I see her?”

“That’s why I’m here.” Norah met his gaze directly. “Not to disrupt your life or make demands. But Lily deserves to know her father exists, and you deserve the choice—the choice I tried to give you two years ago—about whether you want to be part of her life.”

“Of course I want—”

“Sebastian.”

Vanessa’s voice carried across the terrace.

“There you are. We’ve been looking everywhere. It’s almost midnight.”

Sebastian turned to see his fiancée approaching, her expression annoyed. She barely glanced at Norah before focusing on him.

“The photographer wants to get shots of us during the countdown. And your mother is asking about the champagne toast schedule. You can’t just disappear like—”

She finally looked at Norah properly, taking in her simple dress, her lack of jewelry beyond the pearl earrings.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Are we interrupting?”

“No,” Norah said quietly, already stepping back. “I was just leaving.”

“Wait.”

Sebastian reached for her arm, then dropped his hand, aware of Vanessa’s sharp gaze.

“We’re not done talking.”

“Yes, we are. For tonight.” Norah’s composure was back in place, but he could see the cost of it in the tightness around her eyes.

“I’m in room 412. Tomorrow morning. 10:00. If you want to meet her.”

She walked away before he could respond, disappearing into the crowd with the kind of dignity that made Sebastian’s chest ache.

“Who was that?” Vanessa asked, suspicion edging her tone.

“Someone I used to know.”

She seemed upset.

“What did she want?”

Everything, Sebastian thought.

Nothing, he said.

“A chance I didn’t give her two years ago.”

“It’s not important,” he lied.

“Good. Because we have two minutes until midnight, and I’d really like my fiancée present for the new year.”

Vanessa linked her arm through his, steering him back toward the main ballroom.

The crowd was gathered at the windows now, champagne glasses raised, everyone watching the countdown clock projected on the wall.

Sebastian moved through it all mechanically, accepting a glass he didn’t want, standing beside a woman he suddenly realized he couldn’t marry.

“Sixty seconds,” someone called out.

The crowd began counting.

“Fifty-nine… fifty-eight… fifty-seven…”

Sebastian’s mind was miles away.

A daughter. He had a daughter named Lily with his eyes and Norah’s smile. A child who’d spent 17 months alive without him.

Who’d taken her first steps, said her first words, had a whole existence he knew nothing about.

“Thirty… twenty-nine… twenty-eight…”

He found his mother in the crowd, standing beside the Kensingtons, watching him with satisfaction.

This was what she’d wanted. Sebastian with the right woman at the right event, making the right connections, living the right life.

Except none of it felt right. None of it had felt right for two years.

“Ten… nine… eight…”

Vanessa turned to him, expectant, ready for the midnight kiss that would be photographed and posted and approved.

“Three… two… one—Happy New Year!”

The room erupted in cheers. Fireworks exploded over the ocean, painting the sky in gold and silver. Couples kissed. Champagne flowed. The band struck up “Auld Lang Syne.”

Sebastian kissed Vanessa because he was supposed to, a brief perfunctory press of lips that meant nothing.

And all he could think about was Norah walking away from him again, this time with a secret that had become a child, and the devastating knowledge that he’d been a father for 17 months without knowing it.

That somewhere in this hotel there was a little girl with his eyes who didn’t know he existed.

That tomorrow morning at 10:00, everything would change if he had the courage to show up.

As the celebration swirled around him, Sebastian made a decision. Not the one his mother would want. Not the one that made sense on paper or protected his carefully constructed life.

But the one that, for the first time in years, felt completely and terrifyingly his own.

Sebastian didn’t sleep.

He’d returned to the penthouse suite at 2:00 in the morning after the last guests had filtered out and the cleanup crew had begun dismantling the evidence of celebration. Vanessa had gone to bed immediately, exhausted from playing hostess, mumbling something about a spa appointment in the morning.

Now, at 7:00 a.m., Sebastian stood on the balcony, watching the sun rise over the ocean, still wearing his tuxedo pants and wrinkled dress shirt. He’d abandoned the jacket hours ago, along with any pretense of rest.

A daughter.

The words had cycled through his mind all night, each repetition making them more real and more impossible simultaneously.

Somewhere in this hotel, four floors below, there was a 17-month-old child who carried his DNA, his features, half of everything he was, and he’d had no idea.

Sebastian’s phone buzzed for the hundredth time. His mother, no doubt. She’d been calling since 3:00 a.m., when someone had apparently mentioned seeing him in intense conversation with some woman on the terrace.

He’d ignored every call.

He couldn’t deal with Catherine Hail right now. Couldn’t stomach her judgments and manipulations and carefully worded disappointments.

For the first time in his adult life, Sebastian didn’t care what his mother thought.

The only thing that mattered was room 412. Ten o’clock.

Norah had said ten.

Sebastian checked his watch.

Three hours.

Three hours until he’d meet his daughter.

Three hours to figure out what the hell he was going to say, how he was going to explain 17 months of absence, how he could possibly make up for—

“You’re up early.”

He turned to find Vanessa in the doorway, wrapped in a silk robe, her hair still perfect despite sleeping. She never looked disheveled. It was like she woke up already posed for a photo shoot.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sebastian said.

“I’m not surprised. That was quite an event.”

Vanessa moved to the coffee maker, programming it with the precision she applied to everything.

“Your mother called me at six. Apparently, there’s some issue she wants to discuss. Something about a conversation you had last night.”

Of course. Catherine had gone around him straight to Vanessa.

“It’s nothing,” Sebastian lied.

“It didn’t sound like nothing. She seemed quite concerned.”

Vanessa turned to face him, her expression carefully neutral.

“Who was that woman on the terrace, Sebastian? And don’t say someone you used to know. I’m not an idiot.”

The coffee maker hissed and gurgled, filling the silence.

“Her name is Norah,” Sebastian said finally. “We were together before you and I met. It ended badly.”

“How badly?”

“I blocked her number. Refused to see her. Cut her out completely.” The words tasted bitter. “I thought I was making a clean break. Turns out I was just being a coward.”

Vanessa’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in her eyes.

“And now she’s here at our celebration. Wanting what? Closure? A second chance?”

“She’s here because she needed to tell me something I should have heard two years ago.”

Sebastian met Vanessa’s gaze directly.

“She has a daughter. My daughter.”

The coffee maker finished its cycle. The silence that followed was absolute.

“You have a child,” Vanessa said, flatly, like she was confirming a business transaction.

“I didn’t know.”

“She tried to tell me, but I’d blocked every avenue of communication. So she raised our daughter alone for seventeen months.”

“Our daughter,” Vanessa repeated, and there was something sharp in her tone now. “You mean your daughter with her.”

“Yes.”

Vanessa poured coffee with steady hands, added cream, stirred—everything controlled, everything measured.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm.

“I assume you plan to meet this child this morning. Ten o’clock. And then what? You’re just going to… what? Play father? Disrupt your entire life for a woman who could be lying.”

“She’s not lying.”

Sebastian knew it with absolute certainty. Norah had many qualities, but dishonesty wasn’t one of them.

“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything except what some ex-girlfriend told you at a party.”

Vanessa set down her coffee cup with a sharp click.

“This could be a scheme, Sebastian. A way to get money. To trap you into—”

“Stop.”

The word came out harder than he intended.

“I know you’re trying to protect me, or protect yourself, but Norah isn’t like that. She never wanted my money. She wanted—”

He stopped.

The truth of it settling heavily.

She just wanted me.

And I threw that away because I was too weak to stand up to my mother.

“Your mother,” Vanessa said, “who, by the way, is probably going to lose her mind when she finds out about this.”

“I know.”

“And me?”

Vanessa’s carefully constructed composure cracked slightly.

“What about me, Sebastian? What about our engagement, our plans, the life we’re supposed to be building?”

Sebastian looked at her, really looked, and saw what he should have seen months ago.

They didn’t love each other.

They fit together on paper, satisfied expectations, looked good in photographs, but there was no passion, no depth, no real connection beyond mutual convenience.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that we both deserve more than this.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened.

“You’re breaking up with me on New Year’s Day. Because of some child you didn’t even know existed until last night.”

“I’m breaking up with you because I’m engaged to a woman I like but don’t love. Because I’ve been letting other people make my decisions for too long. Because—”

He stopped, the full weight of it hitting him.

“Because I need to figure out who I actually am when I’m not performing for my mother or the board or society pages. And I can’t do that while pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“This is insane,” Vanessa’s voice rose slightly. “You’re throwing away everything. Our relationship. Your mother’s approval. Your reputation. For what? A chance to play house with some waitress and her baby.”

The contempt in her tone ignited something in Sebastian.

“That waitress,” he said quietly, “is worth ten of most people in our social circle, including me. And that baby is my daughter, which makes her the most important person in my world, whether I’ve met her yet or not.”

Vanessa stared at him like he’d become a stranger.

“Your mother was right,” she said finally. “She warned me. You had a tendency toward impulsive emotional decisions. I should have listened.”

“My mother,” Sebastian said, “doesn’t get a vote anymore.”

He walked past Vanessa into the bedroom, grabbed his phone, and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Vanessa demanded.

“To take a shower and change, and then I’m going to meet my daughter.”

“Sebastian—”

“Keep the ring or sell it. I don’t care. But we’re done.”

“Vanessa, we should have been done before we started.”

He left before she could respond, taking the stairs instead of the elevator because he needed to move, needed to burn off the adrenaline coursing through his system.

By 9:30, Sebastian had showered, changed into jeans and a simple sweater, and was pacing the hotel lobby like a caged animal. He’d turned off his phone after the twentieth call from his mother.

Whatever Catherine wanted to say could wait.

At 9:45, he couldn’t wait any longer.

Room 412 was on the fourth floor, facing the ocean.

Sebastian stood outside the door for a full minute, his hand raised to knock, his heart hammering against his ribs.

This was it.

On the other side of this door was a truth he’d run from. A life he’d missed. A daughter he’d never held. A woman he’d never stopped loving, though he’d tried.

Sebastian knocked.

The door opened almost immediately, like Norah had been waiting right there. She looked different in daylight, wearing jeans and an oversized sweater, her hair in a simple ponytail, no makeup.

She looked exhausted and beautiful and terrified.

“You came,” she said softly.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I wasn’t sure.”

Norah stepped back, opening the door wider.

“She’s eating breakfast. Fair warning, she’s enthusiastic about food and life in general.”

Sebastian stepped into the room, his pulse roaring in his ears.

And then he saw her.

A small child sat in a portable high chair by the window, cheerfully smashing pieces of banana with her tiny hands. She wore pink pajamas covered in elephants, her dark curls wild around her face.

When she heard the door close, she looked up.

Those eyes. His eyes.

Dark and curious and devastatingly familiar.

“Mama!” Lily shouted happily, holding up a piece of banana like it was a trophy.

“Yes, baby. That’s a banana!” Norah said, but her voice shook slightly.

Lily’s attention shifted to Sebastian. She studied him with the intense focus only toddlers possessed, head tilted, assessing this new person in her space.

Then she smiled.

A huge, dimpled grin that hit Sebastian like a physical blow.

“Hi,” Lily said clearly, waving her banana-covered hand.

Sebastian couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Could barely breathe.

This was his daughter.

This perfect, messy, joyful little person was his, and he’d missed 17 months of her life.

“Do you…” Norah’s voice was barely audible. “Do you want to hold her?”

Sebastian’s hands trembled as he reached for his daughter.

Norah cleaned Lily’s hands and face, wiping away the banana evidence with practiced efficiency. Now the little girl looked at Sebastian with open curiosity, her head tilted in that way children had when deciding if someone was friend or foe.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Sebastian whispered, his voice rough. “Can I hold you?”

Lily considered this for a long moment.

Then, with the fearlessness of someone who’d never known rejection, she lifted her arms up toward him.

Sebastian carefully picked her up, and the weight of her—solid and warm and real—nearly broke him.

She was so small. How could a person be this small and this perfect?

Lily studied his face from inches away, her dark eyes serious. Then she reached out and patted his cheek with one tiny hand.

“Dada,” she said questioningly.

The word shattered something in Sebastian’s chest.

“She’s been saying that recently,” Norah said quietly from behind him. “She sees other kids with their fathers at the park. I think she’s been trying to figure out what the word means.”

Sebastian couldn’t answer. Tears burned behind his eyes as he held his daughter for the first time, feeling her small hand against his face, watching her examine him with the same intense focus he’d seen in the mirror his entire life.

“Hi, Lily,” he managed finally. “I’m…”

“Yes,” Lily said, utterly satisfied. “I’m your daughter.”

Lily seemed satisfied with this answer. She settled against his chest, tucking her head under his chin like she’d always belonged there.

Sebastian closed his eyes and breathed her in. Baby shampoo and something sweet. Maybe syrup from breakfast.

“She likes you,” Norah observed, and there was something complicated in her tone. Relief maybe. Or sadness.

“She doesn’t know me well enough to like me.” Sebastian opened his eyes to find Norah watching them with an expression that made his heart ache. “I’ve done nothing to deserve this.”

“She’s seventeen months old.” Norah’s voice caught. “She doesn’t think about deserving. She just… she just knows you’re here now.”

Lily pulled back to look at Sebastian again, then reached for his watch. A vintage Rolex that cost more than most cars. She grabbed it with both hands, fascinated by the way it caught the light.

“Shiny,” she declared.

“Yeah. It is shiny,” Sebastian agreed, letting her explore.

“You can look at it.”

“She’ll try to eat it,” Norah warned. “She’s in an oral phase where everything goes in the mouth, as if on cue.”

Lily’s mouth opened, watch approaching rapidly.

“Or maybe not the eating,” Sebastian said, gently redirecting her attention to the watch’s band instead of the face.

Lily seemed content with this compromise, running her fingers over the metal links.

Sebastian moved carefully to the armchair by the window, still holding Lily, and sat down. She was already squirming, clearly not the type of child who stayed still for long.

“She has your energy level,” Norah said, settling on the edge of the bed. “Everything at full speed all the time.”

“I was like that.”

“You never stopped moving during meetings. Pen clicking, leg bouncing, fingers drumming. You only stayed still when you were focused on something important.”

The fact that Norah remembered these details, that she’d paid that much attention, made something warm unfold in Sebastian’s chest.

Lily wriggled free and slid down to the floor, immediately toddling toward a basket of toys in the corner. She moved with that unsteady gait of early walkers, arms out for balance, completely determined.

“When did she start walking?” Sebastian asked.

“Three months ago. She was early. The pediatrician said most babies don’t walk until 12 to 15 months, but Lily was cruising at nine months and fully walking by fourteen.” Norah’s pride was evident.

“She’s determined. Once she decides she wants something, she doesn’t stop until she gets it.”

“Definitely my daughter,” Sebastian murmured.

Lily retrieved a stuffed elephant from the basket and brought it to Sebastian, holding it up proudly.

“Ellie,” she announced.

“That’s a very nice elephant,” Sebastian said seriously, taking the offered toy. “Is Ellie your friend?”

Lily nodded enthusiastically.

“Ellie sleep.”

She mimed it, putting her head down, complete with fake snoring sounds.

Sebastian laughed. Actually laughed. For the first time since arriving at this hotel.

“Does Ellie sleep a lot? Every night?”

“Every night,” Norah confirmed. “Lily won’t go to bed without her. We had a minor crisis last month when Ellie went missing for three hours. Turned out she was in the washing machine.”

“The washing machine.”

“Lily decided Ellie needed a bath.”

Norah’s smile was soft.

“She’s very nurturing. Takes care of all her stuffed animals like they’re her babies.”

Sebastian watched his daughter return to the toy basket, digging through it with single-minded focus. She pulled out blocks, a board book, a set of plastic keys, examining each one before discarding it.

“What’s she looking for?” he asked.

“Who knows? Half the time I can’t figure out what’s going on in her head.”

Lily found what she’d been searching for—a small board book with bright pictures. She brought it to Sebastian and climbed into his lap with the confidence of someone who’d never been turned away.

“Book,” she commanded, settling against his chest.

Sebastian looked at Norah helplessly.

“I don’t… I’ve never read to a child before.”

“Just point at the pictures and say the words. She’ll fill in the rest.”

The book was simple. Farm animals with corresponding sounds.

Sebastian opened to the first page.

“What’s this?” he asked, pointing to a cow.

“Moo!” Lily shouted happily, patting the picture.

“That’s right. And this—”

“Ba!” More enthusiastic patting.

They went through the entire book twice, Lily providing sound effects with increasing volume and drama. By the time they finished, Sebastian’s ears were ringing, but he was smiling.

Genuinely. Fully smiling in a way he hadn’t in years.

Norah watched from the window, her arms wrapped around herself.

“She’s amazing,” Sebastian said softly. “You did an incredible job.”

“I did what any mother would do.”

“No.” Sebastian met her eyes over Lily’s head. “You did more. You raised her alone without support while dealing with—”

He stopped. The enormity of it hitting him.

“God, Norah. How did you manage work, childcare, everything?”

Norah’s expression shuddered.

“I figured it out. Women have been raising children alone for generations. I’m not special.”

“You are to me.”

The words hung in the air between them, weighted with everything unsaid.

Lily, oblivious to the tension, slid off Sebastian’s lap and toddled to Norah, arms up.

“Mama, snack!”

“You just had breakfast, you bottomless pit,” Norah said, but she scooped Lily up anyway, pressing a kiss to her dark curls.

“How about we go down to the beach? Show Dada the shells you like to collect.”

She’d said it so naturally, like it was already established fact.

Sebastian stood.

“I’d like that. If… if that’s okay with you.”

“This isn’t about what’s okay with me anymore,” Norah said quietly. “You’re her father. You have rights.”

“I don’t want rights.” Sebastian stepped closer, careful not to crowd them. “I want to be her father. Really be her father. Not just a name on a birth certificate or a monthly check.”

He swallowed hard.

“But I also want… I want to do this right with you. Not around you or in spite of you.”

Norah’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“I don’t know how to do this, Sebastian. I don’t know how to co-parent with someone I—”

She caught herself, biting off the end.

“Someone you what?” he asked softly.

Norah shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

Lily squirmed, clearly bored with the serious conversation.

“Beach. Beach. Mama. Beach.”

“Okay, sweet girl. Beach.”

Norah set Lily down and moved to pack a small bag: sunscreen, water, snacks, a change of clothes. The efficiency of her movement spoke to months of practice.

Sebastian watched, feeling useless.

“What can I do?”

“Get her shoes. They’re by the door. The pink sneakers.”

Sebastian retrieved the tiny shoes—impossibly small—and knelt down.

“Come here, Lily. Let’s put your shoes on.”

Lily ran over, plopping down on her bottom and sticking her feet out.

Sebastian fumbled with the Velcro straps, finally getting both shoes secured. Lily immediately stood and stomped around, delighted with the sound.

“Shoes. Loud shoes.”

“Very loud,” Sebastian agreed, standing.

Norah grabbed the bag and her room key.

“Ready?”

They made their way downstairs, Lily between them, holding both their hands. She swung slightly with each step, giggling when they lifted her off the ground.

In the lobby, they passed several hotel guests. Sebastian saw the looks: curiosity, judgment, speculation.

An older woman he recognized from last night’s gala stared openly at Lily, then at Sebastian, clearly doing mental math.

He didn’t care.

For the first time in his adult life, Sebastian Hail didn’t care what people thought.

All that mattered was the tiny hand gripping his fingers, the sound of his daughter’s laughter, and the woman walking beside him who’d carried the weight of parenthood alone for too long.

They stepped out onto the beach, and Lily immediately broke free, running toward the water with a squeal of delight.

“Not too close, baby!” Norah called, jogging after her.

Sebastian followed, his heart full and breaking simultaneously, knowing that everything had changed in the span of one morning, and that somehow, impossibly, he had to find a way to deserve this second chance.

They spent two hours on the beach.

Lily collected shells with the focused determination of an archaeologist on a dig, presenting each discovery to Sebastian like it was a precious gem. He admired every single one: the broken ones, the plain ones, the ones covered in sand, with the same reverence he’d once reserved for multi-million-dollar deals.

Norah sat on a beach towel nearby, watching them with an expression Sebastian couldn’t quite read. Sometimes she smiled. Sometimes she looked away, blinking rapidly.

“Da, look. Big one.”

Lily held up a conch shell nearly as large as her head, staggering under its weight.

Sebastian caught her before she toppled over.

“Wow. That is big. Should we add it to our collection?”

They had amassed quite a pile: shells, smooth stones, a piece of driftwood that Lily insisted was a boat, and one very confused hermit crab that Norah had gently returned to the water.

“I think we have enough treasures for today,” Norah said, standing and brushing sand from her jeans. “Someone’s going to need a nap soon.”

“No nap,” Lily protested, even as she rubbed her eyes.

“Yes, nap,” Norah countered gently. “You’re getting cranky.”

“Not cranky.”

Sebastian bit back a smile.

“What if we bring all these shells upstairs and make a special place for them? Would that be okay?”

Lily considered this compromise with Mama’s room.

“Wherever you want.”

That seemed acceptable.

Lily started gathering shells with renewed purpose, trying to carry too many at once and dropping half of them.

“Here.” Sebastian pulled off his sweater, creating a makeshift bag. “We can use this.”

They loaded the shells carefully, Lily supervising with the seriousness of a foreman. By the time they finished, Sebastian’s designer sweater was covered in sand and seawater, probably ruined.

He didn’t care even a little bit.

As they walked back toward the hotel, Lily crashed the way toddlers did: suddenly and completely.

One moment she was chattering about Ellie needing a shell, and the next she was slumped against Sebastian’s shoulder, fast asleep.

“That was fast,” Sebastian murmured, adjusting his hold.

“She fights naps like they’re the enemy, then passes out mid-sentence.” Norah reached over to smooth Lily’s curls. “Let’s get her upstairs.”

They made it through the lobby without incident, but the elevator doors had barely closed when Sebastian’s phone, which he’d foolishly turned back on, began vibrating insistently.

Norah glanced at the screen.

“Your mother’s been calling.”

“I know. Eighteen times.”

Sebastian declined the call.

“I’ll deal with her later.”

“She probably knows about Lily.”

“I’m sure she does. This hotel is crawling with people who know my mother. Someone definitely reported back.”

Sebastian looked down at his sleeping daughter.

“I don’t care what Catherine thinks.”

The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor. They walked to Norah’s room in silence, the weight of unspoken things heavy between them.

Inside, Norah pulled back the covers on the bed while Sebastian carefully laid Lily down. She stirred slightly, mumbling something about Ellie, but didn’t wake.

Norah tucked the stuffed elephant beside her and drew the curtains, dimming the room.

They stepped into the small hallway near the bathroom, leaving the door cracked so they could hear her.

“She’ll sleep for about an hour and a half,” Norah whispered. “Sometimes two hours if we’re lucky.”

Sebastian nodded, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in Norah’s whiskey-colored eyes. Close enough to smell her shampoo—something floral and familiar.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For this morning. For letting me—”

“You don’t have to thank me for letting you meet your own daughter.”

“Yes, I do.”

You could have made this so much harder, he wanted to say. Could have demanded things, set conditions, treated me like the absentee father I’ve been.

“Stop.”

Norah pressed her fingers briefly to his lips, then pulled back like she’d been burned.

“You weren’t absent by choice. I know that now. You were blocked by me not being able to reach you, by your life, by—”

A sharp knock on the door interrupted her.

They both froze.

Another knock, harder this time.

“Sebastian. I know you’re in there. Open this door immediately.”

Catherine Hail’s voice carried the authority of someone used to being obeyed.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened.

“You don’t have to let her in,” Norah whispered.

“She’s your mother, and she’ll make a scene in the hallway if we don’t.”

Norah moved toward the door.

“Norah, wait—”

But she’d already opened it.

Catherine Hail stood in the corridor, perfectly dressed in a cream suit despite the early hour. Her expression was cold fury barely contained beneath a veneer of civility.

“Mrs. Hail,” Norah said evenly. “Would you like to come in?”

“I would like,” Catherine said, stepping inside without invitation, “to speak with my son alone.”

“This is Norah’s room. If she wants to stay, she stays.”

Sebastian positioned himself between his mother and the bedroom where Lily slept.

Catherine’s gaze swept the space, taking in the scattered toys, the portable high chair, the pile of shells in Sebastian’s ruined sweater.

Her lip curled slightly.

“I see the rumors are true. You’ve been spending the morning playing house with your old flame and her illegitimate child.”

The word hit like a slap.

“Don’t,” Sebastian said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Don’t you dare call my daughter that.”

“Your daughter.” Catherine’s eyebrows rose. “Based on what? The word of a woman who conveniently disappeared two years ago and has now resurfaced with a baby? Really, Sebastian? I raised you to be smarter than this.”

“You raised me to do what you wanted,” Sebastian countered. “There’s a difference.”

“I raised you to understand your responsibilities—to your family name, to your company, to your position in society. Not to throw it all away for—”

She gestured dismissively toward the bedroom.

“For what, Mother? Say it.”

Catherine’s expression hardened.

“For a child who may or may not be yours, conceived by a woman who worked as a waitress and has nothing to offer except—”

“Except she’s the mother of my child,” Sebastian stepped forward, his voice sharp as broken glass. “Except she raised Lily completely alone for seventeen months because I was too much of a coward to take her calls. Except she’s more genuine and kind than half the people in your social circle combined.”

“This is exactly what I was afraid of.”

Catherine turned to Norah.

“What do you want? Money? A settlement? Name your price and let’s be done with this charade.”

Norah’s face had gone pale, but her voice remained steady.

“I don’t want your money, Mrs. Hail.”

“Everyone wants money, especially people in your situation.”

“My situation?” Norah’s tone cooled. “You mean being a single mother, working full-time while raising a child alone, managing just fine without help from anyone?”

“I mean being the kind of woman who traps a wealthy man with a pregnancy.”

“Stop talking,” Sebastian said, the words cutting through the room like a whip crack. “Right now. Before you say something we can’t come back from.”

Catherine turned to him, genuine surprise crossing her features.

“Excuse me.”

“You heard me. You will not come into this room and insult the mother of my child. You will not throw money at a problem that isn’t a problem. And you will not—”

His voice dropped, deadly quiet.

“You will not ever call my daughter illegitimate again.”

“Sebastian, you’re being irrational.”

“No. For the first time in my life, I’m being completely rational.”

Sebastian moved to stand beside Norah.

“Lily is my daughter. I know it without a paternity test, though we can do one if it makes you feel better. But it won’t change anything. She’s mine.”

He looked at Norah, at the woman who’d tried to tell him, who’d carried his child alone, who’d built a life out of nothing because he’d been too weak to listen.

“And Norah is—”

He stopped, choosing his words like they mattered.

“Norah is under my protection,” he finished. “Both of them are. And if you can’t accept that, if you can’t treat them with the respect they deserve, then you and I are going to have a very different relationship going forward.”

Catherine’s face had gone rigid.

“You would choose them over your own family.”

“They are my family.”

The words came easily. Felt right in a way nothing had in years.

“Lily is my daughter. That makes her your granddaughter, whether you acknowledge it or not.”

From the bedroom, a small voice called out.

“Mama, mama, where?”

Lily.

Awake and confused, probably frightened by the raised voices.

Norah moved immediately, but Catherine was closer to the bedroom door. She stepped into the doorway and, for the first time, saw Lily clearly.

The little girl sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes, dark curls disheveled from sleep. When she saw the stranger in the doorway, she shrank back slightly.

“Mama,” she said again, smaller this time.

Catherine stood frozen, staring at the child.

Sebastian watched his mother’s face, saw recognition flicker across it as she took in Lily’s features—the eyes that were undeniably his, the determined set of her jaw, the way she tilted her head, assessing.

“Well,” Catherine said finally, her voice strange, “she certainly has the Hail eyes.”

Norah pushed past her to scoop up Lily, holding her protectively.

“It’s okay, baby. Just some visitors.”

Lily buried her face in Norah’s shoulder, one eye peeking out to watch Catherine warily.

“How old?” Catherine asked.

“Seventeen months,” Sebastian answered.

Catherine did the mental calculation, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“I see.”

“Do you?” Sebastian challenged. “Do you see that I missed seventeen months of her life? That Norah tried to tell me and I blocked her because I was following your advice about clean breaks and unsuitable attachments?”

“Sebastian, no—”

“You need to hear this.”

He moved to stand with Norah and Lily, presenting a united front.

“I made mistakes. Huge ones. I let you influence my decisions. Let you convince me that someone’s worth was measured by their bank account or social connections. But I’m done with that. Done letting you control my life.”

Catherine’s composure cracked slightly.

“I’m your mother. I only want what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me,” Sebastian said quietly, “is standing right here.”

“And you either accept that or you leave.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with years of manipulation and control finally hitting a wall.

Catherine straightened her suit jacket, her expression closing off.

“I see I’m not welcome here.”

“You’re welcome to meet your granddaughter. To apologize to Norah for the things you’ve said. To be part of our lives.”

Sebastian’s voice softened slightly, but only slightly.

“But only if you can do it with respect. I won’t subject either of them to your judgment.”

Catherine looked at Lily one more time, her granddaughter watching her with Sebastian’s eyes and a stranger’s caution.

“I need time,” she said finally. “This is unexpected.”

“Take all the time you need.” Sebastian opened the door for her. “But when you’re ready, you know where to find us.”

Catherine left without another word, her heels clicking sharply down the hallway.

The door closed.

The silence that followed felt profound.

Lily lifted her head from Norah’s shoulder.

“Loud lady gone.”

“Yeah, baby,” Norah said softly. “The loud lady is gone.”

Lily looked at Sebastian, reaching for him.

“Dada stay.”

Sebastian took his daughter into his arms, feeling the rightness of it settle into his bones.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, pressing a kiss to her dark curls. “Dada is staying.”

After Catherine left, the room felt both emptier and somehow fuller.

Sebastian sat on the floor with Lily, building a tower of blocks that she delighted in knocking down. Each crash was followed by squeals of laughter that made his chest ache with joy and regret in equal measure.

Norah had retreated to the small kitchenette area, making tea she didn’t seem to be drinking. Sebastian watched her from the corner of his eye, the tension in her shoulders, the way she gripped the counter like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Lily commanded, handing him another block.

“More.”

Sebastian stacked it carefully.

“How high should we make it this time?”

“Big.” Lily stretched her arms wide.

“This big?”

“That’s pretty big. I don’t know if we have enough blocks.”

Lily considered this problem with utmost seriousness, then toddled to her toy basket and began excavating every block she could find. She returned with arms full, dumping them unceremoniously in Sebastian’s lap.

“More blocks,” she announced proudly.

“You’re absolutely right. More blocks means bigger tower.”

Sebastian started building again, hyper-aware of Norah’s presence across the room.

“Hey, Lily. Should we ask Mama if she wants to help?”

Lily looked up.

“Mama, come play.”

Norah turned, and Sebastian saw the evidence of tears she’d been hiding. His heart clenched.

“I don’t want to interrupt your—”

“Please,” Sebastian said quietly. “Join us.”

Norah walked over slowly and sat on the floor beside them, keeping a careful distance. Lily immediately crawled into her lap, offering her a block.

“Mama, build too.”

“Okay, sweet girl. Where should this one go?”

They built in silence for several minutes, Lily directing the construction with the authority of a tiny architect. When the tower finally toppled, this time from structural instability rather than deliberate destruction, Lily clapped her hands with delight.

“Big crash.”

“Huge crash,” Sebastian agreed. “Should we build it again?”

But Lily had already moved on, distracted by a board book about trucks. She settled into Norah’s lap with it, content to flip pages and provide sound effects.

Sebastian watched them together, the ease of their relationship, the way Norah automatically adjusted to accommodate Lily’s squirming, how she pressed absent kisses to her daughter’s curls while Lily babbled about big truck and beep beep.

This is what he’d missed.

Not just the milestones, but these quiet moments. The ordinary magic of being present.

“I’m sorry,” Norah said suddenly, not looking up from the book.

“For what?” Sebastian asked.

“For what your mother said. For the position this puts you in. For…” her voice caught. “For everything being so complicated.”

“Norah, look at me.”

She did, reluctantly. Her eyes were red-rimmed, exhausted.

“Nothing about this is your fault,” Sebastian said firmly. “Not my mother’s judgment. Not the complications. Nothing. You tried to tell me. I refused to listen. That’s on me.”

“I… I could have tried harder.”

“How?” Sebastian leaned forward, careful not to disturb Lily. “You called. I blocked you. You came to my office. Security removed you. You wrote a letter. I never saw. What else could you have done? Shown up at a board meeting? Hired a skywriter?”

Despite everything, Norah’s lips twitched.

“I considered the skywriter.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

Sebastian paused.

“I broke up with Vanessa this morning.”

Norah’s eyes widened.

“Sebastian—”

“It wasn’t because of you. Or it wasn’t just because of you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to articulate something he barely understood himself.

“It was because I’ve been living someone else’s life. Making choices that looked good on paper but felt wrong in every way that mattered. Vanessa deserved someone who loved her, not someone who was with her because his mother approved.”

“What did she say when you ended it?”

“That I was being impulsive. Irrational. Throwing away everything for a child I just met.” Sebastian smiled without humor. “She wasn’t entirely wrong about the impulsive part, but meeting Lily didn’t change my mind about Vanessa. It just made me stop pretending I was happy.”

Lily had abandoned her book and was now playing with Norah’s necklace, a simple silver chain with a small pendant. She tugged on it, examining the way it caught the light.

“Shiny, mama.”

“Very shiny,” Norah agreed softly.

Sebastian watched them, memorizing the moment, the afternoon light streaming through the window, Lily’s chubby fingers on the necklace, the way Norah’s hair had escaped its ponytail, falling around her face.

“I want to be part of her life,” he said. “Really part of it, not just weekends or holidays. I want to know her favorite foods and what makes her laugh and how to calm her down when she’s upset. I want—”

He stopped. The enormity of it overwhelming.

“I want to be her father in every way.”

“You are her father,” Norah said quietly, “but I don’t know how to do this.”

“I don’t know anything about children. I’ve never changed a diaper or handled a tantrum or—”

“Neither did I,” Norah interrupted. “When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified. I’d never even babysat. I learned everything from books and trial and error and a lot of crying at three in the morning.”

“You make it look easy.”

“It’s not easy. It’s never easy, but it’s worth it.”

Norah looked down at Lily, who’d fallen into that semi-drowsy state toddlers got when they were content.

“She’s worth everything.”

Sebastian wanted to reach out, to close the distance between them, to tell Norah that she was worth everything, too. But the words stuck in his throat, complicated by history and hurt and the fact that he’d already damaged this relationship once.

“I want to support you,” he said instead. “Financially, yes, but also… I want to be present. I want to learn. I want you to teach me how to be what she needs.”

“Sebastian, you don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

He met her eyes.

“And not because of obligation or guilt, though God knows I have plenty of both. But because somewhere in the last few hours, that little girl became the most important thing in my world.”

“And you—” he stopped, choosing his words carefully. “You’re the person who made her who she is. You’re an amazing mother, Norah. I see that. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

Tears spilled down Norah’s cheeks.

“I was so scared. When I saw you last night, I was terrified you’d reject her, or worse, that you’d try to take her from me.”

The thought horrified him.

“Never, Norah. I would never.”

“I know that now, but last night, standing in that ballroom, surrounded by your world, I felt so…” She laughed bitterly, small, inadequate. “Like I was exactly what your mother thinks I am.”

“My mother is wrong.”

“Is she?” Norah’s voice broke. “Look at us, Sebastian. I’m a single mother working an administrative job to make ends meet. You’re a billionaire with hotels on three continents. How is this supposed to work?”

“I don’t know,” Sebastian admitted. “But I know I want to figure it out with you.”

Lily stirred, mumbling something about Ellie. Norah shifted her carefully, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“She’s going to need another nap soon. Real sleep this time, not just a power nap.”

“Can I stay?” The question came out more vulnerable than Sebastian intended. “While she sleeps, I mean. We could talk. Really talk. About what this looks like going forward.”

Norah studied him for a long moment.

“Okay.”

They moved Lily to the bed again. This ritual already familiar: Ellie positioned just right, blanket pulled to her waist, curtains drawn.

When Norah returned to the main room, she’d composed herself. She sat on the small couch, leaving space beside her that felt both inviting and vast.

Sebastian sat down, maintaining a respectful distance.

“I live in the city,” Norah began. “A one-bedroom apartment in a decent neighborhood. I work for a marketing firm. Nothing glamorous, but it pays the bills and has good insurance. My parents live two hours away and help when they can, but they’re not wealthy. They can’t…”

She stopped.

“We don’t have trust funds or connections or any of the things your world values.”

“My world,” Sebastian said quietly, “values profit margins and networking events. I don’t give a damn about that anymore.”

“You say that now?”

“I mean it now, and I’ll keep meaning it.”

He turned to face her fully.

“Norah, I’m not asking you to fit into my life. I’m asking if I can be part of yours. Part of Lily’s. However that looks.”

“What about your company? Your hotels? You can’t just abandon—”

“I’m not abandoning anything. I have managers, regional directors, a whole infrastructure that’s been running perfectly well without my constant oversight.”

Sebastian realized the truth of it as he spoke.

“I’ve been using work as an excuse to avoid having a real life. But Lily deserves better than a father who’s always traveling, always in meetings, always putting business first.”

“So what are you proposing?”

“I want to move closer to you. Rent an apartment in the city. Be available. Not just for scheduled visits, but for everyday things. Doctor’s appointments. Playground trips. Those moments when she’s sick or scared or just wants her dad.”

Norah’s breath hitched.

“That’s a huge change.”

“I know. Your mother will lose her mind, probably.”

Sebastian allowed himself a small smile.

“But for the first time in my life, I’m okay with disappointing Catherine Hail.”

“What about Lily? She doesn’t know you yet. What if she—”

“Then I’ll earn her trust slowly. Patiently. However long it takes.”

Sebastian finally gave in to the impulse and reached for Norah’s hand. She didn’t pull away.

“I’m not expecting instant family bliss. I know this is complicated. I know I hurt you and that doesn’t just disappear because I’ve had an epiphany. But I’m asking for a chance to be present, to prove I can be the father Lily deserves.”

“And the—”

He stopped.

“The what?” Norah whispered.

Sebastian looked at their joined hands, at the woman who’d haunted his dreams for two years, at the mother of his child who’d shouldered everything alone.

“The partner you deserved all along,” he finished. “Not… not in a relationship sense. I know I have no right to ask for that. But as co-parents. As people raising this incredible little human together.”

Norah was crying again, silent tears tracking down her face.

“I need time,” she said finally. “To process all of this. To figure out how to let you in without—”

“Without what?”

“Without getting hurt again.”

The words landed like a physical blow.

Sebastian squeezed her hand gently.

“I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. I’m going to make mistakes—probably a lot of them. But I can promise I’ll show up every day in whatever way you need.”

He paused.

“And I’ll never, ever block you out again.”

From the bedroom, Lily began to whimper, the sound of a child waking from a dream.

“Mama,” she called, voice small and frightened. “Mama, where?”

They both stood immediately, moving to the bedroom together.

Lily was sitting up, tears on her cheeks, reaching for Norah.

“I’m here, baby. Mama’s right here.”

Norah scooped her up, but Lily looked past her, finding Sebastian. She reached for him too.

“Dada stay.”

Sebastian’s throat closed.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said. “Dada is staying.”

Lily seemed satisfied with this, settling between them as they sat on the edge of the bed. She tucked her head under Norah’s chin, but kept one small hand on Sebastian’s arm, like she was making sure he was real.

And in that moment, sitting in a modest hotel room with a woman he’d loved and lost and a daughter he’d only just found, Sebastian Hail finally understood what home meant.

Three weeks later, Sebastian stood in front of a modest apartment building in downtown Seattle, a box of Lily’s favorite books in his arms, and his heart hammering against his ribs.

He’d kept his word.

Every single day since New Year’s, he’d shown up. At first, it had been video calls—FaceTime sessions where Lily would press her face against the screen and babble about her day while Sebastian listened like she was presenting a doctoral thesis.

Then weekend visits where he’d driven the two hours from his temporary rental to spend Saturdays in the park. Sundays making pancakes that Lily helped with by getting flour absolutely everywhere.

He’d learned that Lily hated peas but would eat them if you called them tiny green balls. That she had a stuffed bunny named Hop, who was Ellie’s best friend. That she could sing the alphabet song, but skipped the letters M through P entirely.

That when she was tired, she rubbed her left ear and got increasingly dramatic about minor inconveniences.

He’d also learned that Norah took her coffee with just a splash of milk. That she hummed when she cooked. That she still bit her lower lip when concentrating.

That she was kind and patient and stronger than anyone he’d ever met.

And that he was still completely, devastatingly in love with her.

Today was different, though.

Today, Sebastian had signed the lease on an apartment three blocks from Norah’s.

Today, he was officially becoming a permanent part of their daily life.

He pressed the buzzer.

“Hello.” Norah’s voice crackled through the intercom.

“It’s me. I brought the books Lily wanted.”

The door buzzed open.

Sebastian climbed to the third floor, his pulse quickening with each step. When he reached apartment 3C, the door was already open.

Lily stood there in pink overalls, her face lighting up like he’d hung the moon.

“Da!”

She launched herself at his legs with the full-body enthusiasm that had become his favorite greeting.

Sebastian set down the box and scooped her up.

“Hey, troublemaker. Did you miss me?”

“Yes. Mama said you coming today and staying and staying and staying.”

“That’s right. I moved into a new apartment really close by. Want to see it later?”

“Yes! Can mama come?”

“If mama wants to.”

Norah appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She wore jeans and an old sweater, her hair in a messy bun. No makeup.

She looked perfect.

“You really did it,” she said softly, taking in the boxes stacked in the hallway behind him. “You actually moved here.”

“I told you I would.”

“I know, but…” she stopped, emotion flickering across her face. “People say a lot of things, Sebastian. They don’t always follow through.”

“I’m not people.”

He set Lily down, watching as she immediately ran to the box of books and began examining them with scholarly interest.

“And I meant every word.”

Norah leaned against the doorframe, studying him.

“Your mother called me yesterday.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened.

“What did she say?”

“She wanted to meet for coffee to discuss the situation,” Norah said, her tone carefully neutral. “I told her I’d think about it.”

“You don’t have to meet with her. Not if you’re not ready.”

“I know, but…” Norah glanced at Lily, who was now reading to her stuffed animals in the serious voice she used when pretending to be a teacher.

“Lily deserves to know her grandmother. If Catherine can treat us with respect. That’s a big if.”

“I know.”

Norah met his eyes.

“But I also know what it’s like to grow up without extended family. My grandparents died when I was young. It was just me and my parents. I don’t want that for Lily if there’s another option.”

This was so quintessentially Norah: putting Lily’s needs first, extending grace even to someone who’d treated her terribly.

“You’re too generous,” Sebastian said.

“Or maybe I just believe people can change.”

Her gaze was steady.

“You did.”

The words hung between them, weighted with everything unsaid.

“Dada, look.”

Lily held up a book about construction vehicles.

“Big truck. Huge truck,” Sebastian agreed, moving to sit on the floor with her. “Should we read it?”

They spent the next hour in that familiar pattern—Lily bringing books and toys, Sebastian following her lead while Norah worked in the kitchen.

Domestic. Comfortable.

Almost like a real family.

Almost, because there was still a wall between him and Norah. Still a careful distance she maintained, a guardedness in her eyes that reminded him daily of the trust he’d broken.

When Lily went down for her afternoon nap, Sebastian helped Norah with the dishes. They worked in silence, the only sound the running water and the clink of plates.

“I saw the article,” Norah said finally.

Sebastian stilled.

“Which one?”

“The one where you announced stepping back from day-to-day operations of Hail Hotels, appointing Marcus as CEO.” She handed him a plate to dry. “That’s a big decision.”

“It was the right decision. Marcus is more than capable and I—”

Sebastian paused.

“I want to actually live my life instead of just managing a company.”

“Your mother must have loved that.”

“Catherine and I aren’t speaking much these days,” he said, drying the plate carefully. “She made it clear she doesn’t approve of my choices. I made it clear I don’t need her approval anymore.”

“That must be hard. She’s still your mother.”

“It is hard, but it’s also…” He searched for the right word. “Freeing. For the first time, I’m making decisions based on what I want, not what’s expected of me.”

Norah was quiet for a long moment.

When she spoke again, her voice was small.

“What do you want, Sebastian?”

Everything.

You.

This.

A life where I come home to Lily’s laughter and your smile and the ordinary magic of being together.

But he couldn’t say that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“I want to be a good father,” he said instead. “I want Lily to know she can count on me. I want…”

He stopped, the words catching.

“I want to deserve the second chance you’ve given me.”

Norah turned off the water, gripping the edge of the sink. Her shoulders were tense, her breathing uneven.

“Norah, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Her voice cracked.

Sebastian’s heart stopped.

“Can’t do what?”

“This… pretending. Acting like we’re just co-parents making schedules and discussing Lily’s sleep routine when every time you walk through that door I—”

She stopped, pressing a hand to her mouth.

“When you what?”

Sebastian moved closer, his pulse thundering.

Norah turned to face him and her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

“When I remember what it felt like before. When we were together and everything was simple and I thought we’d have forever.”

“Norah—”

“No. Let me finish.”

She sucked in a shaky breath.

“You hurt me, Sebastian. When you blocked me out, when you refused to hear me, when you chose your mother’s approval over what we had, it broke something in me.”

“And I’ve spent two years trying to convince myself I’m over it. That I can be your co-parent and your friend and nothing more. But every time I see you with Lily, every time you show up exactly when you say you will, every time you prove you’ve changed—”

Her voice broke completely.

“It terrifies me because I’m falling for you again, and I don’t know if I can survive you leaving a second time.”

Sebastian closed the distance between them, his hands framing her face, thumbs wiping away her tears.

“I’m not leaving,” he said fiercely. “Not this time. Not ever.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

He rested his forehead against hers, breathing her in.

“I know it because these last three weeks have been the happiest of my life. Not because I signed some big deal or opened a new hotel, but because I got to read bedtime stories to our daughter. Because I got to see you smile when Lily said my name. Because for the first time in years, I woke up every morning with a purpose that mattered.”

“Sebastian…”

“I love you.”

The words tumbled out, urgent and true.

“I never stopped loving you. Even when I was too much of a coward to admit it, even when I was engaged to someone else, even when I convinced myself I’d moved on, I loved you.”

“You are the best decision I ever made and the worst mistake I ever walked away from.”

Norah was crying in earnest now, her hands fisting in his shirt.

“You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“You want to know what I want?”

Sebastian pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

“I want this. Every day. I want to come home to you and Lily. I want to help with bath time and fight about whose turn it is to do dishes. I want to wake up next to you and fall asleep knowing you’re safe.”

“I want marriage and more kids and growing old together and every single ordinary moment in between.”

“We can’t just—people don’t just—”

“Why not?” Sebastian’s voice gentled. “We’re not kids, Norah. We know what we want. We know what we lost.”

“And I know…” his voice roughened, “I know I don’t deserve another chance. I know I shattered your trust and walked away when you needed me most. But if you can find it in yourself to forgive me, to let me prove every single day that I’ve changed, that I choose you—”

He stopped, swallowing hard.

“Then I promise you, I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt it again.”

Norah stared at him, tears streaming down her face, her whiskey-colored eyes searching his for any hint of doubt.

She must have found none, because suddenly she was kissing him.

It was desperate and tender and tasted like tears and hope.

Sebastian wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and felt something fundamental shift into place.

This.

This was what home felt like. Not a place, but a person. Two people. A family.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Norah pressed her face into his neck.

“If you hurt me again—”

“I won’t.”

“If you let your mother—”

“Never.”

Sebastian tightened his hold.

“Catherine can accept us as we are, or she can stay out of our lives. But I will never choose anyone over you and Lily again. Never.”

Norah pulled back to look at him. Her face was blotchy from crying. Her eyes red. Her hair a mess.

She’d never looked more beautiful.

“I love you too,” she whispered. “I tried not to. God, I tried so hard, but I never stopped.”

Sebastian kissed her again, slower this time, savoring it.

Two years of longing and regret and desperate hope poured into that single moment when they finally separated.

Norah was smiling. Really smiling. For the first time since he’d walked back into her life.

“So,” she said, a bit breathless, “you moved three blocks away.”

“I did.”

“That’s very close.”

“Too close?”

Sebastian’s heart hammered nervously.

“Not close enough.” Norah’s smile widened. “But it’s a start.”

From the bedroom, Lily’s voice called out.

“Mama, dada, where you go?”

They looked at each other and started laughing, that slightly hysterical laughter that comes after emotional breakthroughs.

“We’re coming, baby,” Norah called back.

They walked to the bedroom together, their hands intertwined. Lily stood in her crib, hair mussed from sleep, reaching for both of them.

“Up!” she demanded.

Sebastian lifted her out while Norah straightened the blankets. Lily looked between them, then smiled, that dimpled smile that destroyed him every time.

“Mama happy,” she observed. “Dada happy.”

“We are happy,” Sebastian confirmed, pressing a kiss to her curls. “Very, very happy.”

“Lily happy too,” she announced. “We all happy.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Norah said softly, meeting Sebastian’s eyes over their daughter’s head. “We’re all happy.”

That evening, they ordered takeout and ate on the living room floor while Lily helped by stealing egg rolls and making a spectacular mess. They gave her a bath together, Sebastian learning the precise temperature she preferred and how she liked the bubbles piled high.

They read bedtime stories—three books, because Lily negotiated like a tiny lawyer—and Sebastian watched Norah tuck her in with the same practiced tenderness he’d witnessed weeks ago in that hotel room.

When Lily was finally asleep, they sat on Norah’s small balcony, sharing a bottle of wine and watching the city lights.

“What now?” Norah asked quietly.

“Now,” Sebastian said, pulling her closer, “we take it one day at a time. I keep showing up. You keep trusting me. We figure out this co-parenting thing.”

“Just co-parenting?”

Sebastian smiled.

“Well, maybe not just co-parenting.”

“If you’re amenable, I might be.”

Norah rested her head on his shoulder.

“Very, very amenable.”

They sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the past finally giving way to the possibility of the future.

Sebastian thought about the man he’d been three weeks ago: engaged to the wrong woman, controlled by his mother’s expectations, running from the only thing that had ever truly mattered.

That man seemed like a stranger now.

This man, the one holding Norah close while their daughter slept inside, this was who he was meant to be all along.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

“For not giving up. For raising our daughter to be amazing. For giving me a chance I absolutely didn’t deserve.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“For waiting.”

Norah turned in his arms, her eyes serious.

“I didn’t wait for you, Sebastian. I built a life. I became someone stronger, someone capable of standing on her own.”

“I know,” he said, and that’s what makes this—”

He gestured between them.

“Even better. You don’t need me. You’re choosing me anyway.”

“We’re choosing each other,” Norah corrected. “Finally.”

“Finally.”

The word held everything: all the lost time, the missed moments, the second chance they almost didn’t get.

Sebastian kissed her again, slow and deep. A promise sealed without words.

Tomorrow, there would be challenges. His mother would need to be handled. Logistics would need to be figured out. The world would have opinions about a billionaire who’d walked away from his empire for a waitress and their child.

Sebastian didn’t care.

He’d spent 42 years living for other people’s approval.

Now, finally, he was living for himself, for the woman in his arms, for the little girl sleeping inside, for the family he’d almost lost and would spend the rest of his life fighting to keep.

The city lights glittered below them. The future spread out like an unwritten story.

And for the first time in years, Sebastian Hail couldn’t wait to see what came next.

Eighteen months later, the morning sun streamed through the windows of their home, a spacious townhouse they’d bought together six months ago, halfway between practical and dream.

Sebastian stood in the kitchen attempting to make pancakes while Lily supervised from her booster seat at the counter.

“Dada, that one looks like a blob,” she announced with the brutal honesty of a three-year-old.

“It’s a creative blob,” Sebastian defended, flipping the admittedly misshapen pancake. “Very artistic.”

“Mama makes better pancakes.”

“Mama makes better everything, but Mama is sleeping in because it’s Sunday, so you’re stuck with Dada’s creative blobs.”

Lily giggled, swinging her legs.

She’d grown so much in the last year and a half—taller, more articulate, with opinions on everything from breakfast food to which stuffed animal deserved the honor of sleeping in her bed each night.

Currently, Ellie was in a complicated rivalry with a new stuffed dinosaur named Rex.

“Is baby brother awake?” Lily asked, peering toward the baby monitor on the counter.

“Not yet, but he will be soon. Babies don’t sleep in as long as Mama does.”

As if on cue, a soft cry emanated from the monitor.

Sebastian sighed, turning off the stove.

“Duty calls. Lily, can you be a big girl and stay right there? Don’t touch anything hot.”

“I know, Dada. I’m responsible.”

Sebastian climbed the stairs to the nursery, his heart swelling as it did every time he entered this room. The walls were painted a soft sage green, decorated with hand-painted animals that Norah had spent weeks perfecting while on maternity leave.

In the crib, their son, Thomas Sebastian Hail, six months old, was just beginning to work himself up to a proper cry.

“Hey, buddy. I’ve got you.”

Sebastian lifted him carefully, still amazed by how small he was.

Lily had been tiny, too, but he’d missed this stage with her. With Thomas, he’d been there from the beginning: the late-night feedings, the diaper explosions, the first smile that had made every sleepless night worth it.

Thomas settled immediately against his chest, his cries subsiding into small whimpers.

“Let’s get you changed and fed, and then you can help Dada rescue the pancakes from complete disaster.”

Downstairs, Lily was exactly where he’d left her, though she’d somehow acquired chocolate chips from the pantry and was eating them one by one with great concentration.

“Lily May Hail Wittmann, did you climb on the counter?”

She looked up with chocolate-smeared innocence.

“Maybe.”

“What’s the rule about climbing?”

“Ask for help first,” Lily recited dutifully. “But Dada was busy with Tommy. And I wanted chocolate chips.”

Sebastian tried to maintain his stern father face, but it was difficult when she looked so pleased with herself.

“Next time, wait for help.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

She held out a chocolate chip.

“Want one? I share.”

“That’s very generous. But these are supposed to go in the pancakes.”

Lily considered this.

“That’s a good idea. Can I help?”

They worked together. Or rather, Lily helped by adding approximately four times the necessary amount of chocolate chips, while Sebastian bounced Thomas in one arm and attempted to create pancakes that were less blob-like.

The kitchen was a disaster: chocolate chips scattered across every surface.

But Lily was giggling, and Thomas was content, and Sebastian thought, This is perfect.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs announced Norah’s arrival. She appeared in the doorway, hair wild from sleep, wearing one of Sebastian’s old t-shirts and pajama pants.

And she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“What’s all this racket?” she asked, but she was smiling.

“Dada’s making creative blobs,” Lily announced. “And I’m helping.”

“I can see that.”

Norah surveyed the chocolate chip carnage with amusement.

“Looks like you need reinforcements.”

She crossed to Sebastian, rising on her toes to kiss him, a familiar greeting that still made his heart skip. Then she took Thomas, cooing at him while Sebastian focused on salvaging breakfast.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

“Like someone who was up three times last night with a teething baby,” Norah said, but her tone was fond.

“Your turn tonight.”

“Deal.”

They’d fallen into these rhythms naturally over the past year: the give and take of partnership, of building a life together.

It hadn’t all been easy. There had been arguments about parenting styles and whose turn it was to deal with Lily’s spectacular tantrum phase. There had been moments when Sebastian’s old life tried to pull him back—board meetings he felt obligated to attend, his mother’s periodic attempts at reconciliation on her terms.

But they’d figured it out together.

Catherine had eventually come around, sort of. She’d shown up at Lily’s second birthday party with an enormous dollhouse and an awkward apology. She still made pointed comments about Norah’s background and clearly struggled with Sebastian’s new priorities, but she’d learned where the boundaries were.

When she crossed them, Sebastian had no problem reinforcing them.

Vanessa had gotten married to a hedge fund manager. Sebastian had seen the announcement in the society pages and felt nothing but relief that she’d found someone more suitable for the life she wanted.

Marcus was thriving as CEO, the company performing better than ever without Sebastian’s constant micromanaging.

Sebastian still held majority shares and attended quarterly board meetings, but his daily life was here in this kitchen with pancake batter on his shirt and his daughter’s laughter filling the air.

They ate breakfast together, Lily providing running commentary on the quality of each pancake—still too blob-like, apparently—while Thomas gummed a teething ring and watched his sister with fascination.

After cleanup, which took twice as long as cooking, they bundled everyone up for their Sunday tradition: the farmers market.

The market was crowded with weekend shoppers, the air filled with the scent of fresh bread and flowers. Lily held tight to Sebastian’s hand while Norah pushed Thomas in his stroller, navigating the crowds with practiced ease.

“Can we get cookies?” Lily asked, spotting a bakery stand.

“After we get the vegetables Mama needs for dinner.”

“Vegetables are boring.”

“Vegetables help you grow big and strong.”

“I’m already big and strong.”

Sebastian laughed, swinging her up onto his shoulders.

“Then you’re doing a great job with the vegetables. Keep it up.”

They moved through the market, collecting fresh produce, artisan cheese, the cookies Lily had been promised.

Sebastian watched Norah bargain cheerfully with a farmer over the price of heirloom tomatoes. Saw her laugh when Thomas grabbed a bunch of parsley and tried to eat it. Observed the easy way she moved through the world.

Confident. Capable. Completely herself.

He’d been terrified of losing her, of her changing her mind, of not being enough, of somehow screwing up this second chance. But Norah had been patient with his fears, had called him out when he was being ridiculous, and had met him halfway in building something neither of them had quite imagined, but both desperately wanted.

“Da, look,” Lily pointed from her perch on his shoulders. “It’s Grandma Helen.”

Norah’s mother waved from across the market, making her way toward them with a warm smile.

Helen Wittmann had welcomed Sebastian into their family with open arms and only mild threats about what would happen if he ever hurt her daughter again. She was everything Catherine wasn’t: warm, accepting, present.

“There are my beautiful grandbabies,” Helen cooed immediately, reaching for Thomas. “And Sebastian, let me guess—Lily had chocolate for breakfast.”

“There was also pancake involved,” Sebastian said defensively.

“I’m sure there was.” Helen’s eyes twinkled. “Norah, dear, you look exhausted. Why don’t you and Sebastian take an hour to yourselves? I’ll take the children to the park.”

“Mom, you don’t have to.”

“Nonsense. I want to. Besides, when’s the last time you two had a moment alone?”

Norah and Sebastian exchanged glances. Helen had a point. Between two children, work, and the general chaos of life, alone time was rare.

“An hour,” Norah relented. “We’ll meet you at the park.”

They transferred the children and all their associated equipment to Helen, who marched off with Lily chattering excitedly about the swings and Thomas content in his grandmother’s arms.

Suddenly, Sebastian and Norah stood alone in the middle of the farmers market.

“Well,” Norah said, “this is weird.”

“So weird. What do adults do with free time?”

“I honestly can’t remember.”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Coffee?” Sebastian suggested.

“God, yes. Actual hot coffee that I can drink without a toddler demanding my attention.”

They found a small café at the edge of the market and settled at an outdoor table. The morning was crisp but sunny, perfect autumn weather.

For several minutes, they just sat sipping their coffee in companionable silence.

“I’ve been thinking,” Norah said finally.

“Dangerous.”

She swatted his arm playfully.

“I’ve been thinking about that night. New Year’s Eve. When I saw you at the gala.”

“What about it?”

“I was so terrified. I’d convinced myself you’d reject us, or try to take Lily, or…” She stopped, shaking her head. “I had every worst-case scenario planned out.”

“And instead…”

“Instead, you showed up. Every single day since. You moved your entire life. You stood up to your mother. You learned how to change diapers and make creative blob pancakes and read Goodnight Moon seventeen times in a row without losing your mind.”

“Only sixteen times.” Sebastian grinned. “The seventeenth time, I definitely lost my mind a little.”

Norah’s smile was soft.

“You became exactly the father Lily needed. The partner I needed. And I just…”

Her voice caught.

“I want you to know that I see it. I see how hard you’ve worked, how much you’ve changed, and I’m grateful. Every single day.”

Sebastian reached across the table, lacing his fingers through hers.

“I’m the one who should be grateful. You gave me a second chance I didn’t deserve. You let me be part of our daughter’s life.”

He paused, emotion tightening his throat.

“You taught me what family actually means.”

“We taught each other.”

They sat like that for a while, hands clasped, watching the market bustle around them.

“Do you ever regret it?” Norah asked quietly. “Walking away from everything—the company, your old life, all of it. Not even for a second?”

“Not even for a second,” Sebastian answered without hesitation. “That wasn’t living, Norah. It was just existing. Going through motions. Checking boxes. Doing what was expected.”

“This,” he gestured between them toward the park where their children were, “this is living. The messy, chaotic, beautiful reality of it. Even when Lily refuses to sleep, and Thomas is teething, and we’re both exhausted, and the house looks like a tornado hit it.”

“Especially then,” Sebastian smiled. “Though I could do without the 3:00 a.m. diaper explosions.”

“Those are character-building.”

“My character is sufficiently built, thanks.”

Norah laughed, the sound warming him from the inside out. Even now, after everything, her laugh was his favorite sound in the world.

“I love you,” Sebastian said.

Because he could say it now, because it was true and real and permanent.

“I love the life we’ve built. I love waking up to chaos and going to bed exhausted and every single imperfect moment in between.”

“I love you too,” Norah said, squeezing his hand. “Even when you make blob pancakes.”

“They’re artistic blobs.”

“They’re disasters.”

“Artistic disasters.”

They finished their coffee and walked hand in hand to the park, where they found Helen pushing Lily on the swings while Thomas watched from his stroller, his face scrunched in concentration as he grabbed at falling leaves.

“Higher, Grandma! Higher!” Lily shrieked with joy.

Sebastian and Norah stood together, watching their family, and Sebastian felt the same sense of rightness he’d felt that first morning in the hotel room.

This was home. Not a building or a place, but these people. This life.

“Ready?” Norah asked.

“For what?”

“The chaos. Lily is going to be wound up from the swings. Thomas will need a nap soon. And I’m pretty sure we forgot to buy anything for actual dinner at the market.”

Sebastian pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I’m ready for all of it.”

As they walked toward their family, toward the beautiful, messy, perfect life they’d built from the ashes of what they’d lost, Sebastian Hail finally understood what it meant to have everything.

Not money or power or his mother’s approval, but this.

Lily’s laughter. Thomas’s gummy smile. Norah’s hand in his.

The ordinary magic of choosing each other every single day.

Looking back on your own life, have you ever had to choose between what was expected of you and what your heart truly wanted?

Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is stop running from the truth and finally choose ourselves and the people who make us whole.

What choice would you make?

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