The next morning felt longer than any day Emily had ever lived.
She woke before the bell rang, even before the sun fully rose and before the younger children began their sleepy murmuring.
She stared at the ceiling of her small room, her heart already racing.
Today, by this evening, she would know. Her fingers tightened around the thin blanket.
What if it's negative? The thought made her chest ache. She tried to imagine how she would react if Victor returned with a calm face and a paper that said no match.
Would she laugh? Would she pretend she never cared? Would she break? A soft knock came at her door.
"Emily?" Clara's called.
"I'm awake," Emily called back, relieved that Clara was here now.
Clara slipped inside and sat at the edge of the bed. She looked brighter than usual, almost excited.
"You look like you didn't sleep," Clara said.
"I didn't."
Clara reached for her hand. "Don't be afraid."
Emily swallowed. "I'm not afraid."
"You are," Clara said knowingly.
Emily looked away and then shrugged. "I just… I don't know what I want the result to be."
Clara frowned. "Of course you want it to be positive."
"Do I?" Emily whispered as she sat up slowly. "If it's negative, then nothing changes. I stay here, my life continues. I know it'd hurt a little, but it's familiar."
"And if it's positive?" Clara asked, squeezing Emily's hand.
Emily's throat tightened. "Then everything changes."
Clara smiled gently. "Then you might turn out to be from a wealthy home. A big house. Beautiful clothes. And you'd have a real family."
Emily looked down at her hands. "I already feel out of place," she admitted. "Yesterday, when I saw him… he looked at me like I didn't belong in his world."
"That's because you don't belong in this one," Clara said softly. "Well, not anymore."
Emily shook her head. "You make it sound easy."
"It could be," Clara insisted. "And if you don't know how to behave around rich people, I'll teach you."
That made Emily laugh softly despite herself. "Oh really?"
"Yes. My father has already started teaching me things. How to sit at formal dinners. How to speak in business settings. What forks to use." She grinned. "It's not that hard."
Emily's smile faded slowly. "This doesn't feel like forks and manners," she whispered. "It feels like… my entire life is being erased."
Clara squeezed her hand. "Or rewritten."
By afternoon, Emily's nerves were stretched thin. Every time a car passed the gate, her heart jumped. Every time footsteps echoed in the hallway, she looked up.
Then, just before sunset, the black car returned. Her breath stopped.
"It's him," Clara whispered.
Emily's legs felt weak as she walked toward the office again.
This time, there was no confusion or uncertainty.
Victor was already seated when she entered.
He had the same calm posture, the same controlled expression. But this time, there was a white envelope resting on the desk.
Her eyes locked on it instantly.
He stood when she walked in. "The results came faster than expected," he said.
Her mouth felt dry. "And?"
He picked up the envelope slowly. For one terrible second, she thought he might drag it out. But he didn't.
He opened it, glanced at the paper briefly, then looked up at her.
"It is confirmed," he said evenly.
"You are my daughter."
Immediately, the world went silent. She heard the words and she understood them but it took a moment for them to sink in.
She was his daughter. Her knees almost gave way so she immediately grabbed the back of the chair for support.
So it's real. It's true. All those nights wondering, all those years asking why. She had not been forgotten by the universe at all. She had a father!
Tears filled her eyes, but this time they were different. It was a mixture of Relief, disbelief, and joy.
"I…" Her voice broke. "You're really my father?"
"Yes." The word was simple, yet it was firm and certain.
A small, shaky smile spread across her face. She laughed softly through her tears.
"I have a family."
Victor nodded once. "You will come home now."
The joy faltered slightly at the word home.
"So soon?" she asked even though he'd told her that the previous day.
"There is no reason to delay. Besides, I told you yesterday."
Her mind struggled to keep up. "I need to pack—"
"There is no need," he quickly cut in.
She blinked. "What?"
"I have already arranged everything," he said calmly. "Your wardrobe has been prepared. Personal items can be replaced."
Replaced. The word landed strangely but she should've known.
"My clothes," she said softly, "aren't just items."
He did not respond to that. "You should say your goodbyes," he said instead.
The excitement in her chest mixed with something else now. Anxiety. 'This is real. This is actually happening.'
She turned to Clara, who was watching from the doorway with wide, shining eyes.
"It's positive," Emily whispered.
Clara rushed forward and hugged her tightly. "I told you!"
Emily laughed through tears. "I'm lucky."
"Yes, you are."
The word lucky felt so fragile, yet she held onto it anyway.
'Maybe this is my miracle.' she thought as she went on to say her goodbyes. While Clara drove back home, Emily got into the car after getting Clara's contact line so that they could keep in touch.
Clara was her only friend after all. The only one that had continued to visit her everyday despite after being adopted.
The drive was quiet. Emily sat in the back seat beside Victor, staring out the window as the city changed.
She folded her hands in her lap, trying to gather courage. "Can I ask you something?" she said softly.
"Yes."
"What about my mother. Why didn't she come with you?"
The word felt heavy but Victor's gaze remained forward.
"She is dead," he replied calmly.
The bluntness made her stomach drop. "Oh," was all she could say.
There was no softness in the delivery. No visible grief.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He nodded once, but said nothing more. She waited, hoping he would continue.
How did she die? What was she like? Did she love me?
But he remained silent. He didn't try to hold a conversation. He didn't even try to ask her how it had been with her.
Emily swallowed, before glancing at him again. "She… she knew about me?" she asked carefully.
"Yes. But we both weren't ready at the time. I'm sorry we left you there," he finally said.
Though the answer was short but he'd at least, offered an apology.
She felt grateful but also unsure about how to feel towards him. He didn't want to know about her and the conversation she was trying to have with him felt like trying to knock on a closed door.
She leaned back slowly. Maybe he's just not emotional or maybe he's nervous too.
She told herself not to expect too much. At least I have a father.
When the gates opened, Emily forgot how to breathe. The house was not a house.
It was a mansion with tall white pillars, wide glass windows, perfect gardens trimmed like something from a magazine.
The driveway curved elegantly toward the entrance. Her reflection stared back at her in the car window.
She did not look like she belonged here. Not one bit. Now, she could understand why he didn't let her pack anything.
Victor stepped out first and a line of staff stood near the entrance.
Waiting for her. Her heart raced again.
As soon as she stepped out, a woman in her late forties approached. Neatly dressed and composed.
"This is Mrs. Wheelers," Victor said. "Your governess."
Governess? Emily blinked.
"She will oversee your grooming and education," Victor continued.
"Grooming?" Emily repeated softly.
"There are expectations, Emily" he said simply.
Before she could ask more, he checked his watch. "I have a business meeting," he said. "It cannot be postponed."
She nodded quickly. "Of course. It's important."
He looked at her once and then offered a small smile. "You will adjust," he said, the smile making Emily even more nervous.
This was the first time he was smiling at her.
Without another word, he turned and walked back toward the car.
Just like that. No tour. No welcoming embrace. No father-daughter moment, just a small smile.
The car drove away but Emily stood there, staring after it.
A strange emptiness settled in her chest. Mrs. Wheelers cleared her throat gently. "He does love you, Miss Emily."
Emily looked at her quickly. "He does?"
"Yes. This is simply how men of his standing are. Reserved and rather focused."
Emily nodded slowly.
Of course. He must be busy and important. Rich people are different.
At dinner, she sat alone at a long table that could seat twenty.
The silence echoed. The food was beautiful and perfectly arranged but she barely tasted it.
Later that night, she called Clara with the phone her governess had given her. "I'm here," she whispered.
"Tell me everything!" Clara demanded.
"It's huge," Emily said softly. "Clara, it's like something from television."
Clara laughed. "I told you!"
Emily hesitated and sighed. "But he left for a meeting."
"Already?"
"Yes."
Clara was quiet for a moment. "My father says Victor Hale is extremely wealthy," Clara said carefully. "And very strict. That he's also very powerful."
Emily stared at the ceiling of her new bedroom, a room larger than the entire orphanage dormitory.
"Strict?" she asked.
"Yes. But respected."
Emily nodded slowly, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "I think… I think this is just how his world works," she said.
"Are you okay?" Clara asked gently.
Emily hesitated. "I'm happy," she said. "That I have a family. I just hope he loves me." she whispered.