Chapter 2: The Real Dad

Rebecca could hardly believe her eyes. The moment Alistair’s divorce was final, he looked… relieved. Almost weightless, as if a burden had been lifted. He didn’t seem the least bit nostalgic about their marriage.

Rebecca bristled. She’d let him stay by her side for six years, and she believed he should have been grateful. Honored, even. Seeing him act so indifferent, so unbothered, sparked an unexpected irritation. She couldn’t quite place why it bothered her so much.

It was over now. The years of tug-of-war with Richard, the man she truly loved, had finally ended. The placeholder, Alistair—the man she’d used to provoke Richard—had played his part and was now out of the picture. He was even sensible enough to leave without a fuss. She should have been overjoyed, awaiting Richard’s proposal, ready to start their blissful life together. Last night had been perfect. Richard and Daniel got along like father and son, and Richard had been unusually gentle with her. This should have been her happy ending, but something felt… off.

Now, with Richard and Daniel, finally poised to live as a happy family, everything was falling into place, just as she’d scripted it. Yet, a nagging restlessness gnawed at her. When Alistair turned to leave without a word, that restlessness boiled over.

“Hey, Alistair!” Rebecca snapped, yanking off her sunglasses and fixing him with a cold stare. She’d once been the dream girl of countless guys, stunningly beautiful, with a figure that turned heads and a meticulous skincare routine that kept her looking like a college student. No one would have guessed she was the mother of a five-year-old.

Alistair glanced back, his face blank, not a flicker of emotion in his eyes. This man didn’t feel like the Alistair she once knew. The old Alistair was always at her beck and call, eager to please, bending over backward for her. But now, he looked at her with a cool detachment that unsettled her.

“Something up?” His voice was flat, almost bored.

Rebecca wanted to lash out, to use him as her punching bag like she always had. But when her eyes met his calm, steady gaze, the words caught in her throat. He was different. Not the pushover she’d known.

She scrambled for an excuse, her eyes flicking to his cheap clothes. With a scornful huff, she sneered, “Alistair, you were with me for years, and your taste is still this awful? Let me make one thing clear. Don’t you dare tell anyone you were my husband. I have a reputation to protect.”

The insult, sharp as it was, didn’t even graze him. Six years of her sharp tongue had made him immune. Her insults were nothing new. He gave her a faint, almost amused smile, then turned to leave.

Rebecca stared, momentarily dazed, as he walked away. That fleeting smile lingered in her mind. It was cold, devoid of warmth, yet strangely captivating. In her memory, Alistair had never smiled. It wasn’t until this moment that she realized how striking he looked when he did. Only when his figure vanished from view did it hit her that he had completely ignored her and just walked off.

Alistair wandered the streets aimlessly, his mind turning over what his “opportunity” might be and where it might appear. He figured even if he sat still, as long as the system was reliable, the opportunity would find him. But with nothing else on his plate, he decided to roam. First, he wanted to rent a place. Something small, even a bit run-down, would do just fine. After all, he was on his own now.

Going back to his father wasn’t an option. He’d lost his mother in an accident when he was young. Not long after, his father remarried, starting a new family with a stepson the same age as Alistair. That boy, brought by his stepmother, got along so well with Alistair’s father that they seemed like a real family. To outsiders, they were the picture of father and son. Alistair, who took after his mother and looked nothing like his father, felt like the odd one out. He’d grown used to being alone and had no desire to disrupt his father’s peaceful life.

By five in the afternoon, his opportunity still hadn’t appeared. He wasn’t discouraged, though. The system had said it would activate within forty-eight hours, and there was still plenty of time.

The call from Maggie Payne, Daniel’s kindergarten teacher, caught Alistair off guard. He sighed, feeling a pang of frustration. Daniel’s school let out at four-thirty. It was now an hour past that. Alistair had always handled drop-offs and pick-ups, and he knew Rebecca probably forgot or assumed someone else would take care of it. And Maggie, like many others, instinctively turned to him instead of Rebecca when something came up.

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said, keeping his tone even. “I’m divorced from Daniel’s mom now.”

Daniel’s wails came through the phone, loud and piercing. Maggie, clearly frazzled, was trying to soothe him while pleading with Alistair to come. She hadn’t even registered what he’d said.

Alistair raised his voice, firm but calm. “Ms. Payne, I’m divorced from Daniel’s mother. She has custody. Daniel’s no longer my responsibility. Please contact her.”

He was, coincidentally, near the kindergarten. While looking at rental listings and waiting for his opportunity, he’d wandered into the area. He could have picked Daniel up one last time, dropped him off, and reminded Rebecca to be more attentive. But he didn’t want to do that. Daniel wasn’t his son, and if Rebecca didn’t care enough, it wasn’t his place to step in.

Maggie was stunned. She’d seen plenty of divorced parents before, but rarely had one completely cut ties with their child so soon after the split. After all, blood ties usually held strong. She and the other teachers had always admired Daniel’s father. He was one of the most hands-on, patient, and responsible dads in the whole school. She used to joke with her coworkers that if she ever got married, she’d want a husband just like him.

Now, on the verge of tears, she pleaded, “Mr. Harlow, can’t you just swing by? Please?” Daniel was a handful when he cried. And today, he had clearly been hurt.

Alistair tried calling Rebecca, but her phone went unanswered. He called twice more, but still no answer.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Payne,” he said, resigned. “I can’t reach Daniel’s mom. You’ll have to call her yourself.”

Through the phone, Daniel’s voice shrieked, “I don’t want him! My real dad said he’d pick me up! I want my real dad!”

The words didn’t faze Alistair. Maggie, however, froze. The realization dawned slowly, awkwardly. And finally, she understood why Alistair had refused to come.

She tried Rebecca’s number, but just like Alistair’s calls, it went unanswered. But by then, none of this was Alistair’s problem anymore. He didn’t feel a shred of attachment toward Daniel. Back when he had still been Daniel’s “dad,” he’d done his part. He had been responsible, loving, and patient. But Daniel, spoiled rotten, had picked up Rebecca’s disdain for Alistair. He’d yell and order him around, showing no respect. Alistair didn’t mind. In a way, it made leaving easier. With them, he had no ties and no regrets.

Later that evening, Alistair stopped by a nearby supermarket to pick up some necessities. As he browsed the aisles, he suddenly heard the sound of soft sobbing. Following the sound, he spotted a little girl, about Daniel’s age, crying quietly. She was strikingly pretty, her big eyes brimming with tears.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said gently, crouching down. “Where are your parents?”

The girl looked up at him warily, her big eyes brimming with tears. She sniffled, unsure whether to trust him. After a moment, she seemed to decide he wasn’t a threat. Shuffling closer, she sniffled, “I can’t find my nanny…”

Alistair stayed low, keeping his voice soft. “Do you know her phone number?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head, then brightened slightly. “I know my mom’s!”

He dialed the number she recited. The call connected, and a cool, crisp voice answered, “Hello?”

The girl leaned toward the phone, her voice trembling but loud. “Mommy, I’m lost! Please come get me!”