ZARA TAYLOR

I kept tapping my hands against my purse as I sat in the lobby of the fertility clinic I just walked into. I could feel my legs vibrating and my mind racing as well.

"What am I doing?" I ask myself. It's only been a few months since I divorced, and I have been enjoying my single life as much as I want.

But something inside of me keeps screaming incomplete and that's why I'm here. In a fertility clinic, trying to have a baby.

"Hi, you can go in now," the receptionist said to me. I nodded with a smile and walked towards the doctor's office. The door swung open, and a couple walked out, holding each other tightly and beaming with a smile.

I stepped aside to let them pass, their happiness brushing against me like a gust of warm wind I hadn't expected. I caught the woman's eyes just for a second, there was a shine in them, a kind of joy that wasn't just about the moment, but about something bigger.

I swallowed hard, the knot in my stomach tightening.

The doctor stood at the door, her expression gentle and inviting. "Ms. Taylor? Come in."

I took a deep breath, adjusted the strap of my purse on my shoulder, and walked inside.

The room was calm, minimalist, with soft lighting and shelves lined with medical books and tiny framed photos, babies, happy parents, little thank-you notes scribbled in colored ink.

"Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing toward the chair across from her desk. "I'm Dr. Moreno."

"Zara," I replied, settling into the chair. "Nice to meet you."

She gave me a kind smile and opened a folder. "So, I understand you're interested in exploring fertility options?"

I nodded, forcing a small smile of my own. "Yes. I know it probably sounds a little impulsive, but..."

"You'd be surprised how many people come in saying that exact thing." She folded her hands on the desk. "But this isn't about impulse. It's about instinct. Wanting a child isn't something that always follows a 'perfect timeline.'"

Her words softened the sharp edges of doubt circling my thoughts.

"I've been through a lot recently," I admitted. "A divorce. A shift in my career. And now, I just... I want something that's mine. Something real."

Dr. Moreno nodded, understanding. "That's valid. And you're not alone." She paused, glancing at her notes. "There are a few different paths we can take depending on what you're comfortable with: sperm donor, egg freezing, IVF. Have you thought about which direction you'd like to go?"

I bit my bottom lip, my fingers twisting the ring I no longer wore on my left hand. "I don't know. I mean, I want to be a mom. I know that. But how..."

"That's what we're here for," she said warmly. "To figure that out, together."

"But there's one thing I do know I want," I said to her with all seriousness.

"Name it. This is your decision to make and no one else," I smiled at the sound of that. My decision to make. My choice.

"Good, because I want everything to be anonymous," I said, and she arched her eyebrows. "Whatever decision I am going to make has to be anonymous. I do not want to know who the sperm donor will be, and he can't know who I am as well," I said, and she nodded

A month into my treatments, I was beginning to feel something close to hope. It was fragile, like a paper crane folded by trembling fingers, but it was there.

Until the call.

It came on a Thursday morning, just after I finished my workout. Dr. Moreno's voice was soft, too soft.

"Zara, I need you to come in as soon as possible. There's been a... complication."

Complication. That word echoed in my ears the whole drive to the clinic. I replayed every step I had taken over the past month, trying to figure out what went wrong. Did I forget a pill? Miss an injection?

I was ushered into Dr. Moreno's office the second I arrived, no waiting, no pleasantries. Just her solemn face and a thick file sitting open on her desk.

"There's been a mistake," she said.

My heart sank.

"What kind of mistake?" I asked, already bracing myself for the worst.

"It's about the donor," she said gently. "There was an error during the labeling process in the lab. The sperm used during your IVF wasn't from the anonymous donor you selected."

I stared at her, blinking. "What do you mean it wasn't from the donor I selected?"

She folded her hands tightly, clearly shaken. "Zara, I'm so sorry. The donor used was someone else. And he has been made aware of the mix-up... He wants to be involved."

I stood up immediately. "No. No, that is not happening. That was never part of the deal. I made it very clear that I wanted anonymity. No ties. No obligations."

"I know," Dr. Moreno said, rising slowly. "And I'm truly sorry. We're investigating exactly how this happened. But I do think... it might help if you meet him. Just to understand the full picture before deciding your next steps."

"No," I said flatly.

That night, I lay awake, wondering what kind of man would want to get involved in a situation like this and why.

Against my better judgment, I agreed to the meeting.

I walked into the private meeting room, arms folded and a tough expression on my face, like I was ready for a fight.

The door opened, and I heard his footsteps before I saw him. Then, that voice.

"Zara?"

Everything inside me froze.

I turned, slowly, and my breath caught in my throat.

Matthew Russell.

I nearly stumbled backward, gripping the edge of the table like it could anchor me to reality. He looked older, yes, but still maddeningly handsome, tall, composed, his brown eyes carrying the same storm they did all those years ago. The only man I had ever loved.

The only man I had ever truly hated.

"You?" I whispered, disbelief crashing into my chest like a wave.

He nodded slowly, as stunned as I was. "I didn't know. Not until they contacted me."

I blinked hard, forcing myself to breathe. "This is... this is a joke. A really sick joke."

"I wish it were," he said quietly. "But it's not. I didn't ask for this either, Zara."

I laughed, bitter and sharp. "You have no right to be involved in anything to do with me. Especially not something like this."

"I didn't come here to make this harder," he said, stepping closer. "But I need you to understand... I never stopped thinking about you."

I flinched, every nerve in my body reacting to the sting of his words. "Don't. Don't you dare do this. You don't get to come back now, after everything you ruined."

His jaw tightened. "It was an accident, Zara. I was seventeen. I didn't mean for any of it to happen."

He swallowed hard, guilt rippling across his face like a shadow. "And I've lived with that every single day since. You think I haven't paid for it? I left the country because I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. But now I'm back. And this...it changes everything."

I shook my head, my hands trembling. "Not for me. I didn't ask for anyone's help, especially not you."

"I'm not here to take anything from you," he said. "But I do want to be part of this child's life."

"No," I said firmly, my voice cracking. "You don't get to play the redemption card just because fate dealt us a twisted hand."

There was silence between us. Heavy. Suffocating.

"Zara..." he said softly. "Please."

"I can't do this," I said, turning away. "I won't."

I stormed out of the room, my heart pounding, my vision blurring. I didn't stop until I was in my car, gripping the steering wheel like it might break apart in my hands.

My whole body trembled. Not just from anger, but from the wave of memories I had buried for years. His kiss. His touch. His betrayal. The funeral. The rain. The void.

I couldn't let him back in. Not now. Not ever.

So I did what I had to.

I packed a bag that night, booked a flight out of the country, and left.

No goodbye.

No note.

No clue that I was already pregnant.

ZARA TAYLOR

I stood in front of the building, anticipating the joy of my life to burst through those doors. I wasn't the only one. So many parents were just as impatient as I was.

It has been hours since I dropped my daughter, Hazel, off at her school, and right now, I will do anything to have her in my arms once again. The huge bell rang and the doors were busted open with a lot of children rushing to their parents.

I scanned the crowd, my heart racing, eyes desperately searching for her familiar face. Then, just as if time had slowed, I saw her, Hazel. My little girl, with her messy brown hair bouncing as she ran toward me. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, a grin spreading across her face.

"Mama!" she shouted, throwing herself into my arms. I caught her easily, holding her tightly as if I could somehow make up for the hours we'd spent apart.

"I missed you so much, Haze," I whispered, brushing her hair from her forehead, inhaling the sweet scent of her childhood innocence.

"I missed you too, Mama!" she giggled, her arms wrapped around my neck. "We did a project today about the planets. Guess what? I made a model of the Earth and...." she continued excitedly, but I barely heard her. My mind, for a brief moment, wandered back to five years ago. To the night I made the decision that changed everything. To Matthew.

I had been running on adrenaline, making the decision to go through with the IVF, wanting a child but keeping my secret, a child who would never know the identity of her father. A child who would be mine alone. But now, five years later, Haze was everything to me. Every laugh, every tear, every moment spent with her was worth the heartbreak that had come before.

I pushed the thoughts aside and focused back on my daughter, her voice pulling me into the present. "... and then we played soccer outside! I was the goalie, and no one could score on me!"

I smiled at her enthusiasm, but something tugged in my chest. Her spirit, her energy, so much of it reminded me of someone. Of Matthew.

I shook the thought away, squeezing her a little tighter. Not today. Not right now.

"Well, it sounds like you had an amazing day," I said, setting her down gently and holding her hand as we walked toward the car. "What do you say we go get some ice cream?"

Her face lit up, her eyes wide. "Chocolate chip cookie dough, please!"

"Done," I agreed, feeling a flicker of warmth in my chest. It was moments like these that made everything feel worthwhile. I would protect her, no matter what, even if it meant never facing the truth about her father.

I dropped her bags in the backseat of my car and couldn't feel her around me. "Hazel darling, let's go," but she didn't move.

"What now?" I asked her. She folded her hands around her chest and had a frown on her face.

"Why don't I have a daddy like the rest of my classmates?" she asked, and my heart sank. For a five-year-old child, my daughter can be pretty amazing and intelligent. She took that from me.

My mind raced, struggling to find the right words, something that wouldn't hurt her, something that wouldn't reveal too much.

I took a deep breath and turned in my seat to face her fully. "You do have a daddy, sweetie," I said, my voice a little softer than I intended. "He just doesn't live with us."

Her brow furrowed, the frown deepening. "But all the other kids have their daddies at home, Mama. Why not me?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. "Well, honey," I began slowly, "sometimes families are different. Some daddies live far away or... sometimes they can't be with us the way we wish they could be."

I watched as her eyes scanned my face, trying to make sense of the words, but it was clear she wasn't completely satisfied. She tilted her head, her little voice quiet but persistent. "But who's my daddy? Where is he?"

I closed my eyes for a brief second, the sharp ache of the truth almost too much to bear. "He's someone who loves you very much, even though you've never met him. He's a part of you, and he's always with you in your heart. And I know that's enough," I said, my voice trembling.

"Okay, Mama," she said softly, jumping into the backseat of the car, the conversation settled in her mind for now.

I let out the breath I had been holding, feeling a knot loosen in my chest. I fastened her seatbelt, then we drove to her favorite ice cream store.

After an hour of enjoying her ice cream and falling asleep on my lap, we headed home with her earlier question still on my mind.

I walked into our patio to see a huge envelope in our mailbox.

"Strange," I don't think I was expecting any mail today. After a rundown of our evening activities, I put Hazel to bed and took out the envelope.

I sat in the quiet of the living room, the envelope from my father's estate lying unopened on the table in front of me. Hazel was asleep upstairs, her soft breath the only sound breaking the silence. The evening had been peaceful, just what I needed after the chaos of the day.

But now, the calm was shattered. I had lived my life in the UK for the past five years, carefully building a future I could be proud of. I had earned my law degree, worked hard to establish myself as a partner in a reputable firm, and given my daughter, Hazel, a life far removed from the pain of the past. Or so I thought.

My heart pounded as I scanned the lines of the will. According to this will, my father was the second largest shareholder of a prestigious law firm. Zenith Law. Every lawyer worth his or her salt knows about the Zenith Law firm. They are among the best in the world. And now I'm its second largest shareholder.

I continued to flip through the pages of the document, trying to figure out how this happened. My father was never a wealthy man nor a lawyer.

My thoughts faded away when my eyes got a clause in the document. "You have got to be kidding me," I said to myself.

For me to have access to my shares, I have to get married and it doesn't give me the choice of choosing who I should get married to.

I have to marry Matthew Russell. The man I did everything I could to get away from. The man behind my Mother's death, and the father of my child.

The universe couldn't be more wrong.

ZARA

"Hi, Miss Zara, there is a call waiting for you in the office," my assistant and my only friend in the city, Vic, said as I walked into the lobby of my office.

"Do you have any idea who?" I asked her.

"She didn't say," I nodded and walked towards the office. "And, oh," she squeaked, smiling. 'You have a visitor," I didn't need to ask who it was, from the look on her face I could tell.

I walked into my office and there he was, Victor Armani, CEO of Armani and Co, law firm and my boss.

"Hi," I greeted with my usual smile as I placed my bag on the table.

"You are here," he turned to look at and smiled.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, even though I knew the answer to that question, "I already dropped the file of my last case with your assistant," I said to him.

"I know that, and you did a very good job with it. Brought the firm a lot of money," he said, and went quiet for a while.

"That's why I'm here actually to offer my congratulations and invite you for dinner," he said, as he placed his hands in his pants pocket.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Victor," I said as I took my seat behind my table.

"Oh come on, Zara," he said with one hand out of his pocket.

"This just isn't a good time," I said, remembering everything that happened last night.

"When is it ever, just one dinner, and that will be all," I juggled with my chair for a minute, and sighed.

"Fine, one dinner," I said, and he smiled.

"Good, I will send you the details," he walked over and kissed me on my cheek. I gave a little smile and he walked away.

Vic walked in, a few minutes after he did. "Well, looks like persistence is the key to your heart," she said and I scoffed.

"You say persistence, I say stalking," I said, and she sat down.

"What are you going to do about it?" She asked me.

"Like I told him already, it's just one dinner. I have a lot of things to do and think about."

"Hazel will be alright. I can come babysit," she said, and I smiled.

"You would do that?" I asked.

"Of course I don't have anything better to do, besides your daughter loves me more," she waved her hands dramatically, accidentally brushing the document on the table."

"I don't remember giving you this yesterday," she said before I could get them away from her.

"I got them from my father," I said, getting up.

"I thought your father was dead," she said with her accent that seems to piss me off sometimes.

"Yes, he is. It's his will. He wants me to take his position in a law firm I didn't know he owed," I said and she scoffed.

"You are not thinking of doing that. Are you?" She asked and I looked away.

"You just became a senior associate, and you are doing very well. How can you be sure that isn't your ex playing games," she said, and I brought my face back, away from the window.

"Ronnie doesn't care about me, but my father does. Even though he didn't show it until his deathbed," I said.

"So you are thinking about it," she said, and I nodded.

"I'm, but right now, I'm thinking about work and my dinner date with my boss," I said, and she stood up.

"Well, you know I will follow you to the ends of the earth," I smiled, and watched as she walked away.

Vic has been like a shoulder to cry on, ever since we met on our first day at the first. We clicked immediately and have been best of friends ever since.

I sighed, took out more of the documents I got from my father's will and began going through it. I hate the fact my father's legacy has been dragged through the mud by this immense growth of corruption.

My father was everything but he had an insane integrity for the law. But I can't believe he had a clause that can only be rendered if I marry Matthew. What was he thinking?

I rubbed my temples, feeling the weight of it all. The more I read, the more it felt like my father had written this will knowing I would be angry. Hurt. Cornered.

Marry Matthew Russell?

It was insane.

He didn't even know about Hazel. Or at least, I thought he didn't. He had vanished before I could tell him, and I had made peace with that silence. Now, this will... this clause... it was dragging the past right back into my present.

A knock pulled me out of my thoughts.

Vic peeked in, "Zara, you should leave now, to get ready for your dinner date," she said, smiling.

I looked at her, then at the clock that hung up on my wall. Damm, I have been in my own thoughts for six hours.

"Yeah," I said, trying to gather the document.

"I will be at your place by five," she said and I nodded. I rushed out of the office, and headed to Hazel's school to pick her up as well.

We didn't have our usual discussion, because of all the things on my mind.

I shouldn't take the position, I should just sell my shares and permanently cut all ties with my family and with Matthew.

This is the best decision, this is the only way I can protect Hazel from her father and my family.

Immediately we got home, I got a new alert on my phone. As a lawyer to a lot of people I need to be aware of anything relating to any of my clients.

I pulled up the news feed and a name stuck out to me. I rushed back to my father's file and there it was.

The news was about my father's firm, Zenith Law. Their recent client has just won the lawsuit against him, despite all the evidence that was against him.

This is the kind of corruption that is happening in the firm. Can I close my eyes and continue to let this happen?

I dropped my phone on the couch and picked up the file again. My father's signature stared back at me from the bottom of the page. It used to mean something. Now, I wasn't so sure.

Zenith Law was supposed to stand for truth. For justice.

Now, it stood for something else, power and silence. I could feel it. That case they just lost? It wasn't just about sloppy lawyers. It was about money. Connections. Control. The things my father used to fight against.

And now they were winning under his name.

I looked over at Hazel, sitting on the carpet, carefully building a tower with her blocks.

I folded the will, slowly, and tucked it back in its envelope.

This was bigger than me. It was bigger than Matthew. This was about a firm I didn't even know I had a claim to, being twisted by people who would do anything for power and money.

But one thing was clear.

If I walked away, they would win.

They would keep using my father's name to protect criminals and destroy good people. And Hazel would grow up thinking the world is only fair to those with money and lies.

No.

I couldn't let that happen.

But I couldn't tell Hazel yet. Not everything. She was too young. Too innocent. All she needed to know was that her mom loved her, more than anything.

The doorbell rang and I opened it to see Vic, standing with her hands on her bag.

"You aren't dressed," she yelled slightly as she walked in.

"I'm not going to the dinner, I'm going back to New York," I said and she sighed.

"No, Zara," she said, sadly.

"A lot is going on back at my father's firm. Things that shouldn't be happening. I have to go, I have to take what's mine. Not just for my sake but for Hazel's as well," I said, and she sighed.

"Well, you already thought about this well. But if you are going, then I'm going with you," she said, and I smiled.

"Good, because I will need all the help."