Three years ago, a fire took my wife and daughter from me.
It happened during the evening rush hour. I had just boarded the subway when a call came in from our next-door neighbor, Cole Smith.
"Nick? Where are you right now? Come home now! Something's happened!"
Cole's anxious voice crackled through the line, sending a chill straight through my chest.
"Cole? What is it? I just got on the subway—"
"Forget the subway! Get a taxi, now! Your house is on fire!"
A thunderous roar exploded in my head. I bolted off the train and flagged down a cab in a panic.
By the time I reached home, it was too late. A firefighter broke the news: my wife and daughter had been reduced to ashes.
Crushed by overwhelming despair, I collapsed on the spot and blacked out.
In an instant, everything I had built over two decades was gone. My wife and child hadn't even left me a memory to hold onto.
After that, the nightmares came, every night without fail.
No matter how my family or friends pleaded, I refused to remarry.
Who could have imagined that my devotion over three years would turn me into a fool?
Hilary faked her death and ran off with my daughter, for her so-called one true love?
A bitter laugh escaped me.
By the time I came to, I had somehow returned to the hotel.
All night long, memories tormented me like ghosts.
By dawn, I had made up my mind. At the very least, I had to get my daughter back.
The next day, I followed the trail of information and found Lily's kindergarten.
By 4 p.m., just before dismissal, I stood across the street in a black coat, peeking through the gate.
"Lily! Over here!"
The familiar name snapped me out of my daze.
I turned toward the voice and felt tears sting my eyes.
A little girl in a floral dress with two neat braids ran giggling toward a friend at the slide.
That sweet, adorable face… she looked just like she did when she was a baby, soft and delicate in my arms.
Soon, the school gate swelled with waiting parents.
I saw her Lily standing in line.
I waved and called out, heart pounding with emotion, "Lily! It's Daddy! Daddy's here!"
But the moment she turned and spotted me, she screamed, "Ah! Bad man! He's a bad man!"
Suddenly, all eyes were on me.
I froze, rooted to the spot. A few elderly women nearby clutched their children protectively and eyed me with suspicion.
"Who are you? Dressed like that… You're not trying to kidnap someone's kid, are you?"
One of the parents hurried off to get a teacher.
The teacher arrived moments later, her expression hostile. "Who are you? Whose parent are you?"
"I'm Lily Stone's father," I said quickly. "I need to see her."
The moment I spoke, her eyes narrowed and she waved over the security guard.
"Her father? I've seen Lily's dad before, and it's not you. Leave now, or I'm calling the cops!"
I tried to explain and stepped toward Lily, but she shrank behind the teacher in fear.
"Mommy said you're a bad person! You're not my daddy! My daddy is super rich!"
My heart plummeted. I stared at her, stunned.
"Lily!! It's me. It's Daddy! Don't you remember? Three years ago, we went to the amusement park together!"
Desperate, I shoved past the teacher and threw my arms around Lily.
But Lily screamed and struggled violently. She flailed her little hands, pounding them against my chest. Each blow felt like it landed directly on my heart.
The pain was suffocating.
Eyes stinging, I held her tight, unwilling to let go.
Then a sharp voice pierced the air. "Nick!"
Before I could react, a stinging slap exploded across my right cheek.
I looked up to see Hilary, face twisted with rage.
She yanked Lily from my arms and glared at me with seething hatred.
"Nick," she hissed, "we need to talk."
