109 — Never leave your side again

**Nova York** — *Seven years before.*

Mr. Adams drove me to a huge villa in his car, and I confess I didn’t believe there was such an incredible place beyond the buildings and the grey city. Surprisingly, there is plenty of green, especially in this residential neighborhood through which he drives, passing through large iron gates. The estate is so large that I’m surprised. I knew that my father was a wealthy man who came from an aristocratic family... but seeing it with my own eyes now gives me a chill in my stomach.
When he parks the car, I start to hyperventilate. My hands are sweating, even with the intense cold that affects my body and makes me shiver.
“Don’t worry, girl,” Mr. Adams says, catching my fearful eyes. “This isn’t the family home... it belongs to Mike alone.”
Oh, that’s right, he’s read the letter and already knows what they think of me.
I turn my eyes to the large classic mansion, its large pillars and windows, and the centuries-old trees that surround the property... “Does he live here all by himself?”
“Yes, for now...” Mr. Adams says, leaning over me, also looking at the mansion. “He likes the tranquility of this place; that’s what he says.”
I take a deep breath and smell his cologne so close it sends a shiver down my spine. It’s such a masculine smell...
Suddenly, he opens the car door to leave, and I rush to get out as well, nervous, but he’s quick to turn around and open the door for me. I’m surprised by his gesture, perhaps because it’s the first time someone has done this for me... It’s like I’m living my own cheesy movie.
Mr. Adams smiles at me, then guides me to the front door, opening it without even knocking. I look at him, startled, but his smile gets even wider and bolder, and he just points with his head, already stepping inside.
I take a deep breath, looking at the hall, which is only a few steps away. Entering this home feels almost like a sin. Suddenly, it feels like my feet might make it dirty... But from there, Mr. Adams is encouraging me... And just like that, I enter the mansion.
“Mike?” He shouts, startling me again. “Where are you?”
A middle-aged woman comes running, in a mixture of surprise and confusion, as she says, “Oh, Mr. Julian, I didn’t know you were coming as well. Mr. Michael didn’t say anything...”
“Mike!” He shouts again, looking up the stairs, then turns his gallant eyes back to the woman, again with his smooth tone. “Don’t worry, Dorothy, he didn’t know either.”
She gives him a disapproving look but then smiles and makes a dismissive gesture, “You came at a good time; you almost didn’t catch him here. There’s an appointment with Mr. Mitchell, he said.”
“Not with Kristen?” Mr. Adams looks at the stairs again, hoping that his call has been answered.
“They have dinner plans here tonight, yes... So don’t prolong it too much; you know Miss Kristen doesn’t like delays.”
Julian rolls his eyes, and I can’t help but feel my head spin. I mean, I don’t understand anything! Who are these people? Wait, does my father even know we’ve come here?
This realization makes my heart skip a beat, and I reach out to grab Mr. Adams’ shirt from behind.
He turns his face slowly, and I raise my eyes, murmuring, “Mr. Adams...”
“I told you, call me Julian.”
“Oh, forgive me... Who would the young lady be?” The woman says with her attention on me, and, without meaning to, I hide behind his back, gripping his shirt a little tighter.
“Well, she’s-” He begins, but a male voice interrupts him, making my chest freeze at the same moment...
“Julian?”
I look up at the top of the stairs, and my eyes immediately fill with tears. I purse my lips, fighting back a sob or a sigh or any sound that might escape them at this moment.
There are no more doubts.
If there was any hope that this was all a mistake, it’s gone. And now I understand why Mr. Adams didn’t doubt it after reading the letter... Because the man coming down the stairs looks exactly like me.
Every step toward me allows me to see one more resemblance. The straight, voluminous brown hair, the brown eyes that shine with intensity, the shape of his eyes, his nose, and even the way he smiles. And just as I imagined, he really looks young... *not someone who would turn up with a daughter so many years later.*
“What are you doing here?” He asks on the last step, then his eyes land on me — or at least try to, as I shrink a little more and hide behind Mr. Adams’ broad back, just like a shy child would. At this moment, I really do feel like a child... perhaps because I’m fulfilling the dream of the six-year-old Angelee, who cried at nights about not having a father.
A second of silence passes, but it seems much longer... until my father says again, “Who is she?”
“Angelee.” He says my name so naturally that I swallow hard, loosening my grip. “Angelee *White.”*
My father looks confused, then tries to look at me again, and this time, I turn away from the shelter and stand under the eyes of the man who gave me life... the man my mother kept sweet memories, even on her deathbed.
He looks intensely at my face as if studying every part of me... Then his eyes gradually widen, his mouth opening slowly, with surprise taking over his entire face only to become confusion.
*“White?”* He stares at Mr. Adams for a long moment and makes my heart beat fast, even though everything seems to be unfolding in slow motion before me. It’s almost like I’m not part of this show... *a character out of place.*
“Angelee White, daughter of Elisa White, sixteen years old, from Nevada.” He says, and then my father looks at me again with his eyebrows so low it makes me hold my breath. I can see the emotions overflowing his face... Surprise, confusion, despair. His eyes are shining like mine, with restrained tears.
“Elisa.” He repeats my mother’s name, and the way his voice sounds soft, full of an old affection, reminds me of her...
A heavy tear falls from my eye. I’m probably really staining this place, as my tears have dropped straight onto the porcelain tiles without rolling down my cheeks. Still, I try to dry my eyes, a strange pride that makes me want to look tough.
“Where...?” He looks around, but of course, there’s no one else. The hope that flashed across his face disappears at the same moment that Mr. Adams shakes his head helplessly. He seems to understand, as there is now sadness in his countenance... “How?”
Mr. Adams sighs and gives me a gentle push, making me step forward. My distance from my father shortens, and even if I wanted to scold him for it, I’m grateful for the courage it awakens in me.
I take the letter from my pocket, already crumpled from carrying it around like an amulet. Slowly, I unfold these small pieces until the delicate handwriting reaches my eyes again, which are fighting back the tears that blur my eyes. I take a deep breath, swallow hard, try to untie the knot in my throat, and finally raise my eyes to face my father.
Just as I start to reach out the letter to him, he simply... pulls me into his arms, giving me a sudden, warm hug... so warm that it completely melts my resistance, making the tears finally roll down my face.
My father is holding me tightly, and I don’t know what to do, how to act... He should be shouting at me, telling me to get out of his house, that he doesn’t know Elisa, that he has an appointment with Mr. Mitchell and Miss Kristen — whoever they are. But instead, he’s hugging me.
My father is hugging me.
Sobs escape my lips. I can’t help it, and it only makes my father’s arms wrap around me more tightly...
“I didn’t know...” He says, his voice shrill than before, perhaps because his throat is as narrow as mine. “Forgive me, I didn’t know...”
I nod, pursing my lips...
“Forgive me.” He lowers his head, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Forgive me for not knowing.”
I close my eyes, finally surrendering, wrapping my arms around his body, returning the embrace I had waited so many years to finally find.
“It’s okay now...” He says, and I hold the letter tightly, remembering my mother’s words that I’ve reread so many times. “I’m here now, and I’ll never leave your side again, I promise.”

*Yes, you were right as always, Mom...*
*Things will be fine. I’ll be fine.*
*So don’t worry, and just keep watching over me from up there.*
*I love you... and always will.*