Chapter 2 Terms and conditions

~Hazel's~

"H-His name is George Davis."

"Yes, he is still alive, but he has another family," she began. "I know he would not help us."

What? I have a father? So where is he? Why wouldn't he help us? I felt the urge to ask my mother, but I couldn't. She had just woken up from a coma. I didn't want to overwhelm her with my questions.

"But I don't expect you to ask him for help either," she continued, her voice no different from a whisper.

"How can I reach him?" I asked, but she ignored my question.

It was clear that she didn't want me to find him.

"There is an heirloom that belongs to my family," she began. "I've entrusted it to a friend."

"Mom?" Tears welled up in my eyes. "I need to pay for your treatment, please tell me how to reach my father."

He was my only hope and option now. She ignored my questions and told me the location of the heirloom.

She assured me that in case I find her people or her people find me, they'd recognize me with the heirloom.

It sounded crazy, but I felt assured that I had a family somewhere. Her words weren't detailed enough, but I didn't care either. All I needed now was the money and not some heirloom.

"Don't worry, Mom, get some rest," I said, helping her lay back on the bed.

My father is still alive? So why did he abandon us? Why didn't he come looking for us? I began to think as I exited the hospital.

There must be something that belonged to my father in my mother's room. Anything that would help me locate him.

Finally, I arrived at my apartment building. Unlocking the door, I made my way to my mother's room. I started searching the whole place for a clue.

There must be something, anything at all.

While searching, I accidentally stumbled upon my mother's old address book beneath the small desk. Its pages were worn and faded with time. Taking a deep breath, I opened it to the page marked "George Davis".

I traced my finger along the phone number listed beside his name. There it was. His phone number.

With trembling hands, I picked up the phone and dialed the number.

God, please let him answer his phone.

The phone rang once, twice, before a voice answered on the other end.

It was deep and rich, with a hint of familiarity that sent shivers down my spine. "Hello?" the voice said, a note of curiosity lacing his words.

For a moment, I was speechless. My mind raced as I struggled to find the right words.

But then, with a surge of courage, I spoke, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me. "Is this... is this Mr. George Davis?" I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

There was a pause on the other end. A moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

And then, finally, came the response I had been waiting for. "Yes, this is him. Who am I speaking to?" the voice replied.

A rush of emotion flooded through me as I realized the truth.

This man, this billionaire whose name had graced the headlines of newspapers and magazines, was none other than my father.

"Hello?" He repeated.

"Hi, D-Dad," I stuttered. "It's me, Hazel, your daughter." Tears streamed down my eyes as I said those words.

"My daughter?" His baritone voice was coated with doubt. "I only have one child, I think you are mistaken," He said.

What? He doesn't know about me? Should I tell him my mother's name?

"My mother's name is Amber," I said, and I heard him gasp.

That must have rung a bell in his head.

"What? Amber? She had a child for me?" He asked, but there was no ounce of surprise in his tone.

I could tell he knew all along. He was just feigning ignorance.

"Dad, I need your help," I began. "My mother's life is at stake, she needs immediate treatment."

"What do you want me to do about it? Why should I help your mother?" He asked, his voice sounding harsh.

"Please Dad, I have no one else to turn to," I said, crying.

"All right, I will help you, but you have to come down to New York. To be sure you are not lying," He said.

He is right for him to doubt.

Anyway, that's not a problem. All that matters is that I will be back with the money.

Without hesitation, I decided to do what he said. I didn't inform my mother about it because I knew she wouldn't agree.

A few hours later, I was already in New York. Standing in front of the mansion he had described. My heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

I had rehearsed this moment countless times in my mind. But nothing could prepare me for the flood of emotions as I raised my hand to knock.

After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open, revealing a man whose features bore a striking resemblance to Brandon and me.

His eyes, though weary, held a glimmer of recognition as he looked upon me.

"Father," I whispered.

The word felt foreign on my tongue after years of absence.

He nodded, his expression guarded yet tinged with a hint of regret. "Come in."

Stepping over the threshold, I saw two women sitting in the living room. They might be my stepmother and stepsister.

They smiled at me, but their hatred for me was written all over their faces. The air felt suffocating. I can't wait to get my ass off this place.

I exchanged pleasantries with them before turning to my father.

Our conversation was strained and awkward until finally, he broached the reason for my visit.

"I'll help with your mother's treatment," he said, his voice gruff yet tinged with a hint of something I couldn't quite decipher. "But there's a condition."

My heart sank as I braced myself for what was to come. I had hoped for reconciliation, for a chance to mend the fractured bond between them.

But instead, he laid out his ultimatum with a coldness that cut me to the core.

"Agree to marry the man I choose for you, and then your mother will be saved." His words caught me by surprise.

"Right now," He added.