The chandelier in the Hayes' mansion cast a soft glow across the marble floors, but it did nothing to warm the chill between Alexander Hayes and Vanessa Reed. He straightened his cufflinks for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, the rehearsed smile plastered on his face weighing heavier with every glance in the mirror. Public appearances, galas, charity events—he had mastered them all. But tonight, standing beside Vanessa, it all felt hollow.
Vanessa fluttered beside him, a perfectly polished image in designer silk, whispering about the upcoming speech. Her laugh was sweet, forced, like a song without melody. Alexander's gaze drifted past her, catching a small, quiet figure in the corner of the room. Diane, his four-year-old daughter, perched on a velvet armchair with a sketchbook in her lap.
Diane rarely spoke, rarely laughed, rarely smiled. She had been a quiet storm since her mother's passing, a little soul who clung to him fiercely and ignored everyone else. Vanessa had tried, of course. Bought toys, dresses, even a stuffed unicorn that Diane had ignored completely. Tonight was no different. Diane's eyes barely flicked toward Vanessa, and when they did, the faint crease of disapproval pulled at her tiny brow.
Alexander's chest tightened. His daughter's silence wasn't a failing, it was a shield. And he had spent years learning to navigate around it, holding her close, speaking softly, listening more than he ever spoke. Vanessa didn't understand. She would never understand.
"Alex, darling," Vanessa whispered again, her hand brushing his arm. He felt the weight of the touch, polite but hollow. "Try to smile, people are watching."
He let out a dry chuckle, glancing at Diane, who hadn't looked up from her drawing. "I am," he said softly, though the statement was as empty as the words Vanessa expected him to say.
Vanessa's lips pressed into a smile that was almost convincing. "You need to loosen up. Diane is lucky to have a father like you. So attentive. So… strict." Her tone lingered, sharp despite the sweetness.
Alexander's jaw tightened. Diane might be quiet, but she sensed Vanessa's insincerity perfectly. A tiny corner of Diane's mouth twitched downward. Alexander noticed, as he always did. The way his daughter's body tensed, the slight shaking of her small hands as she clutched her pencil. Protective instincts flared within him, and the gallery of polite guests blurred into insignificance.
He crouched slightly, lowering his voice so only Diane could hear. "Want to show me your drawing?"
Diane's tiny hands shuffled the sketchbook toward him, revealing a delicate illustration of a garden filled with imaginary flowers, some smiling, some wilting, but all captured with care. Alexander's fingers brushed hers as he took it, and a warmth spread through his chest he hadn't realized he missed,the quiet, uncomplicated connection he shared with Diane.
Vanessa's heels clicked against the marble floor as she moved closer. "She should be smiling. I don't understand why she isn't smiling for me," she said, more to herself than to Alexander.
Alexander rose smoothly, masking the irritation in his tone. "She's not used to forced smiles," he said, his gaze flicking at Diane, who peeked up at him from behind the sketchbook, eyes wide and unblinking. Vanessa's lips tightened, but she said nothing, forcing the smile again.
Later that night, when the gala ended and the house returned to its quiet echo, Alexander found Diane curled up in his study chair, her small fingers tracing the edges of her sketchbook. He knelt beside her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "You were quiet tonight," he said gently.
Diane shrugged, murmuring in her tiny voice, "I don't like her."
Alexander swallowed, fighting the tension in his chest. "I know," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "You don't have to."
In that moment, with Diane leaning into him, he felt the weight of the world press against his shoulders but also the certainty that protecting his daughter was the only thing that mattered. Vanessa could have her gala smiles, her public appearances, her hollow charm. He didn't need any of it.
As he stood, glancing toward the empty hallway where Vanessa had disappeared for the night, Alexander's mind wandered, quietly plotting a solution for Diane, someone who could truly care for her, someone who wouldn't just pretend. And for the first time in years, he allowed himself a thought he had buried deep: maybe, just maybe, it was time for a new beginning.