“Not really,” Maya said, climbing onto her stool. “Had that dream again.” David knew the one. The recurring nightmare where she gets lost and can’t find her way back. “Remember what Dr. Miller said?” David said gently. “It’s just a dream. In real life, you always have a home to come back to.”
“Promise?” Maya asked, her eyes searching for certainty. “I promise,” David said, feeling the weight of that word. The news about her biological father hung over him like a cloud, but he pushed it aside. “Now eat your breakfast. We don’t want to be late for school, right?”
After dropping Maya off at her private school, David headed to his office. Sarah met him with her usual efficiency. “Good morning. The meeting with the tech partners is at 11:00, and legal needs your signature on the merger docs.” David nodded distractedly. “Sarah, clear my afternoon. I have a personal matter to attend to.”
Sarah looked at him curiously but just nodded. Since Maya had arrived, everyone at the company had noticed a change in David. He delegated more and left early to pick her up. Surprisingly, the company was doing better than ever. David headed to the airport; he was going to Miami.
He found the beach bar where Greg Miller worked. A man in his late thirties was serving drinks to a couple of tourists. He had dark, messy hair and a tan. Nothing about him suggested a connection to Maya, except perhaps the shape of his eyes. David sat at the bar and waited.
“Afternoon! What can I get you?” Greg asked with professional cheer. “Bourbon. Neat,” David said, studying the man’s face. “You’re Greg Miller, right?” A flash of surprise crossed the bartender’s face. “Yeah, that’s me. Do I know you?” “Not directly,” David said. “But I know your daughter, Maya.”
The effect was instantaneous. Greg turned pale, his eyes widening. He looked around quickly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must have the wrong guy.” “I don’t,” David said firmly. “Maya. Seven years old. Daughter of Sarah, who passed away a year ago. The Maya you left behind.”
Greg set a bottle down with a bit too much force. “Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but this isn’t your business.” “It became my business when I found your daughter starving on the street,” David countered. “It became my business when I took her into my home.”
Customers at the bar started to look over. Greg signaled to another staff member. “I’m taking a break,” he announced. “Let’s talk outside.” David followed him to a quiet area behind the bar. “Who are you?” Greg asked. “Some kind of social worker?” “My name is David Miller. I’m the man who’s been caring for your daughter.”
Greg ran a hand through his hair, looking agitated. “Look, I didn’t abandon her, okay? It was a bad situation. After Sarah died, I… I couldn’t handle it. I was a mess, in debt, drinking too much. I left her with a neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, who said she’d watch her until I got on my feet.”
“Well, Mrs. Higgins had to move to a home,” David said coldly. “And Maya ended up on the street alone.” A flicker of genuine guilt crossed Greg’s eyes. “I didn’t know that. When I got this job, I tried to send money, but I couldn’t get a hold of anyone. I thought maybe they’d moved or someone had taken her in.”
“Nobody did,” David said. “She was hungry, sleeping in parks, and treated like a nuisance. And all that time, you were serving drinks in Miami.” The shame on Greg’s face was evident. “I know I’m a terrible father, okay? I know I failed her. But what do you want from me now? Money?”
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