The Daughter He Couldn’t Keep

Snow fell without end over the outskirts of New York, frosting the iron fence outside the orphanage white.

I drifted in midair, staring down at the small patch of ground lit by a streetlamp in the yard.

My daughter, Leah, was standing there.

I screamed her name until it felt like my soul was tearing apart.

"Leah! Baby, watch out!"

But I was already dead. o one could hear me.

Ryan, a vicious little thirteen-year-old brat, had Leah by the collar and was slamming her against the wall.

His volunteer badge still hung around his neck, like some kind of sick joke.

"You motherless little stray—how dare you touch my stuff?"

Leah's face was turning red from the pressure on her throat.

I lunged at him, instinctively trying to shove him away.

But my hands cut through nothing but freezing air. I couldn't touch him.

"Let her go! Please—"

The wind ripped my voice apart. All I could do was watch as Ryan tightened his grip.

Leah's face was starting to turn purple.

Just when I was on the verge of breaking down, her hand fumbled across the ground and found a rock by her foot. With every last bit of strength she had, she swung it at Ryan's head.

Thud!

Ryan froze for a second, stunned, then collapsed into the snow.

Blood spread fast, staining the white ground red.

I went still.

She won. She survived.

But then my heart clenched all over again.

"Leah, run! Please, just run!"

But my little girl dropped to her knees and reached for Ryan's neck, trying to check his pulse.

She was scared that bastard might die. Scared someone would call her a murderer. Scared of causing trouble.

"Mrs. Sullivan! Mrs. Sullivan!" Crying, she ran toward the main building. "Ryan fell and got hurt! Somebody—please, come quick!"

At the sight of that, my throat closed up so hard it felt like I was choking on stone.

The orphanage staff rushed out in a panic and loaded Ryan into a car.

And Leah—my daughter—was left behind, forced to stand there as punishment.

"Don't move."

"Stand here and think about what you've done."

"We'll deal with you when we get back."

Rage burned through my chest.

I threw myself at those adults over and over, screaming at them.

But they couldn't hear me.

Leah stood in the snow, swaying in the wind. Her lips had gone pale from the cold, but she stayed stubbornly in place.

The night grew darker.

The snow kept falling harder.

Her legs started to shake. Her breathing grew weaker and weaker. And finally, she collapsed into the snow.

"No! Don't fall asleep! Baby, wake up!" I dropped to my knees beside her, sobbing nonstop. "Leah... Mommy's here... Mommy's right here..."

But I couldn't even warm her up.

The next morning, I heard hurried footsteps.

And to my shock, it was my ex-husband.

He came in a rush, his suit jacket still unbuttoned.

He was probably there for one of his little charity visits, the kind that helped polish his image as the brilliant attorney who was supposedly both principled and compassionate.

And then he saw Leah lying on the ground.

His expression shook.

"Oh my God—" He ran over and scooped her up. "Hey, sweetheart, can you hear me?"

If I'd still had a heart, it would have stirred at that moment.

Eight years.

This was the first time he had ever held my child.

"Doctor! I need a doctor!"

He carried her toward the car at a run.

Before the emergency vehicle had even left the grounds, his phone rang.

On the other end was Sophie, sobbing so hard she could barely get the words out. "Yard! Ryan's at the hospital! He was attacked! The doctors say it's bad—you have to come now!"

I froze.

The boy who had bullied my daughter—Ryan—was actually the son of Yard and Sophie?

My ex-husband's son with the woman who destroyed our marriage was bullying the daughter he had with me?

His face darkened instantly. "Who did it?"

"I heard it was that crazy girl from the orphanage! That little nobody no one wants!"

His knuckles turned white around the phone as he ground out each word through clenched teeth. "I'll find out exactly who dared lay a hand on my son."

I hovered behind him, watching him hold Leah in his arms while cursing her for another child's sake.

I wanted to laugh, but I couldn't.

"Your son?" I whispered. "Yard, that's your daughter."