108 — With love, Elisa White.

**Nova York** — *Seven years before.*

New York is truly incredible, just as Mom described it. The one time she came here was enough to mark her memory. I never understood why she was so fond of this city, but I have come to understand.
The letter she left me, the one in my hands, tells everything she went through, how she searched for my father and his family tried to buy her silence... And how, even so, she traveled to New York only to find out about his recent engagement, with a baby in her belly, the fruit of a fling between young people with different burdens.
And even though I’ve read it so many times, seeing the words in this perfect handwriting still makes me cry,

[...] *Maybe the two of us didn’t mean anything, but he gave me you, my angel. And I accepted his family’s proposal because it seemed like the best thing to do. He could get on with his life and the family he would build with that other girl, and I could get on with mine, just the two of us. I’d like to say something different, but our relationship was so brief that he might not even remember me. Nothing romantic, I know. Forgive your mother for not giving you a beautiful example of love. I hope you don’t lose faith in it and look for your own... I’m sure you’ll be very happy, my child... And even if I’m not by your side celebrating, I’ll always be watching over you.*

I wipe away a tear that runs down my cheek, turning my eyes to the modern living room, with its expensive furniture and not much personality. The black and brown in the warm light brings heat to my chest, unlike when I was outside this imposing building.
And now here I am, in the Vice President’s office.
JULIAN ADAM, I read it on the door. Gosh, even his name is beautiful.
I’ve never really seen such beautiful eyes before... I wish I were exaggerating, but everything about him is just... radiant. His blond hair, his beard threatening to grow...
My heart races, bringing a slight discomfort to my chest. I get my hand up to it, feeling its quick beats against my hand... and a confused sensation spreads through my body; it’s almost like a chill in my stomach...
The door opens, and my eyes immediately meet the man who brought me here. Looking at him again makes me hold my breath without even realizing it. A shiver runs down my spine and makes my skin burn.
Mr. Adams approaches with a mug that he quickly holds out to me, saying, “Here, warm up... How long were you out there?”
I take the cup slowly, almost fearfully, and notice that it’s a latte...
“Sorry, I didn’t know what you liked, but you need something warm, so if you don’t like it, I can get something else-”
“No, no!” I say quickly, raising my eager eyes to him. “I love latte!”
And it’s true, I do love latte, but I think I’ve come to love it even more after the kindness of this man I’ve just met.
“Really?” He smiles at me, making my heart beat even faster *if that’s possible.* “Lucky, then.”
I take a sip of my latte, feeling my face heat as well as my hands on the mug.
Mr. Adams sits down in the armchair opposite me, and even the way he sits, so elegant, with his perfect posture without a hair out of place, shows that he really is the Vice President of this place.
“Sorry, I didn’t ask your name yet.” He sighs and scratches his chin discreetly, keeping his eyes on me. “You can call me Julian.”
“Angelee White,” I say slowly, my face burning a little more.
“Angelee? Like an angel?” He smiles discreetly, and I confess that hearing my name in his husky voice awakens something completely unknown in my chest. “You have a beautiful name.”
“Yes... My mother chose it.”
Mr. Adams remains silent for a moment, then asks slowly, analyzing me, maybe trying to read my thoughts, “How old are you, Angelee?”
“Sixteen,” I say after taking a sip of my latte, lowering my eyes.
“Sixteen.” He repeats quietly, clasping his hands over his lap. “And where do you come from?”
I tilt my head, surprised by so many questions... But what can I do? I came out of nowhere claiming to be the daughter of the owner of this place, so of course, he doesn’t believe me, and neither does the receptionist. At least he’s being nice... so I have to be honest.
“Nevada.”
“Nevada...” He raises his eyebrows discreetly, surprised. Then he moistens his lips, and I find myself noticing this simple movement more than I should. “You said you were Mike’s daughter, but he doesn’t have any children as far as I know... And believe me, I know everything about him.”
I feel my stomach twist, and maybe my expression has given me away because he’s quick to add, “I’m not saying you’re lying, but maybe you got confused?”
I hesitate for a moment, looking at the letter my mother left, then I hold it out to him. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m trusting this man, I really don’t, but there’s something about him that seems to pull me in, like magnetism.
Mr. Adams takes the letter and begins to read it carefully, with great attention. There are details about how they met in Las Vegas. It’s a funny story that could certainly fit into a romantic comedy movie, except that they never met again after that night.
And although I secretly hated him, just like every child who hasn’t seen their parents together, I longed for it. I even asked a shooting star to bring me my father because I wanted a whole family, and I wished so, so much to find him... And now, I’m miles away, about to realize this dream of mine, but at what cost? Sometimes, I feel like I couldn’t have them both... and when I made that stupid request, I sacrificed my mother without even knowing it.
And as if she foresaw my thoughts, my guilt, Mom also told me through the letter that I shouldn’t blame my father or myself for what happened... her illness had nothing to do with the twists and turns of life, but it was the sign that her mission was coming to an end. She told me that I should go after Michael O’Neil and tell him the truth instead. She even called herself a coward, and I wish I could scold her for saying something like that. After all, Mom is the bravest person I’ve ever met.
“Lisa White.” Mr. Adams reads the name at the bottom of the letter and raises his eyes to mine. “Where is she?”
“Dead,” I say, huffing, my eyes burning. “She died a few weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He lowers his eyes again, looking at my mother’s handwriting that tells an unknown story until then... a secret she kept to herself for over a decade. “I’m really sorry.”
I wipe away a heavy tear that runs down my cheek and force a smile, “You don’t have to believe me, but I didn’t confuse anything, not even my mother.”
“Mike ran away to Las Vegas once.” He says, looking at me again, surprising me, “It’s been over sixteen years.”
I swallow hard, pursing my lips and picking up the letter he hands back. I take the folded paper to my heart with indescribable relief... It took me so long to get here, and not just because I was afraid of being rejected... But I didn’t want my mother’s image to be tarnished or to be called a liar.
“Let me ask you something.” Mr. Adams says quietly, looking directly into my eyes. His smooth voice makes me let out the breath I hadn’t even noticed I’d been holding. “Do you blame him for all this?”
Such a direct question takes me by surprise. I look at the letter, remembering all the times I’d heard my mother speak so fondly about their meeting despite the deep pain in her eyes. They danced together, shared drinks, and ran away from the guards... two young people who liked each other from the first moment. They counted stars and shared grief, the past, but never talked about the future...
It was clear to them that they would never meet again.

[...] *Let it be eternal as long as it lasts; that was our silent agreement. But he gave me something that will last forever, the most precious thing in the world. You, my daughter... My angel.*

So even though I hated him for the lack he made in my life, for the absurd theories I created, trying to understand why he abandoned me... I also longed for his love. I missed someone I’d never even met.
Sometimes, I think my mother loved him, or perhaps she loved the memory of him. And if she didn’t hate him for how the future turned out, how could I? How could I blame him for everything when he didn’t know anything?
“I can take care of that if you want. I can arrange a DNA test, and you won’t need to see him.”
I open my lips to answer him, but my throat is too tight, and no words escape it.
“You don’t need to bleed an open wound, girl.” He says with a sigh. “If you don’t want to meet him, you don’t have to, and we’ll respect your decision. But if you do want to see him... I’m sure he’ll be happy to welcome you.”
I lower my eyes, looking at the letter once again... my heart is beating too fast.
“Do you want to meet him?” Mr. Adams asks firmly, and his voice gives me goosebumps.
*Meet my father?*
*Can I really meet him?*
I raise my eyes again, meeting the emeralds that shine brightly. Somehow, I know that this decision of mine will change my life entirely.
“Yes... I want to meet him.

[...] *And I want you to know that I’ve never regretted anything. If God gave me a chance to go back in time, I’d do it all over again, without blinking, just to hold you in my arms and watch you grow into the strong girl who will face this storm. But you don’t have to face it alone. You’ll find people who love you, and time will heal all your wounds. Believe your mother, I’m always right, aren’t I?*
*Take care of yourself; don’t overdo it... everything will be fine.*
*You will be fine, I promise.*

*— With love, Elisa White.*