Chapter 6: The Empty Mansion
Arthur’s penthouse was a monument to modern minimalism—glass, steel, monochromatic art, and sharp edges. It was a place designed to impress investors, not a home for a grieving seven-year-old.
Mia stood in the center of the massive living room, her small, worn-out shoes looking tragically out of place on the imported Persian rug. She clutched a small plastic bag containing all her worldly possessions: three sets of clothes, a stuffed rabbit missing an ear, and her mother’s journal.
""You can have any room you want,"" Arthur offered gently.
Mia pointed to a small guest room near the back. ""That one is fine. It’s not too big.""
Over the next few days, Arthur watched as Mia carefully navigated the penthouse. She was too quiet, too polite. She cleaned up after herself immediately, terrified of taking up space. It broke Arthur’s heart. He realized that giving her a luxurious life meant nothing if she didn't feel safe enough to actually live in it. He needed to become a father, not just a provider.
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