Another boring elevator ride, that's what Alan kept telling himself. Just another dull trip from the lobby to his suite. Samuel stood beside him, checking his watch every thirty seconds, while Alan scrolled aimlessly on his phone, pretending he wasn't exhausted. Between chasing down a missing specialist and dealing with an endless stream of calls, his patience was already on life support.
The elevator doors slid open with their usual soft chime and then chaos arrived in the form of a tiny whirlwind in a blue dress.
"Daddy!"
Before either man could blink, before Alan could even look up from his phone, a pair of impossibly small arms wrapped around his wheelchair like a baby koala clinging for dear life. The whole thing happened so fast that both men just froze, staring at the pint-sized intruder who'd materialized out of nowhere.
Seriously, she was adorable. Designer-catalog adorable. Bouncy dark curls framed her heart-shaped face, her cheeks were flushed from running, and her big dark eyes sparkled like sunlight on a lake. But when those eyes turned up to Alan's… something weird happened. Something in his chest stuttered. There was something familiar in them, something that made his pulse hitch before logic caught up.
"Kid, you've got the wrong guy," he said, trying to shut this down fast, his voice as firm as he could manage. He reached for his best ice-king tone. "I'm not your dad."
But the tiny human clutching his armrest wasn't having any of it. Her grip only tightened, her chin tilting up with six-year-old determination that was frankly terrifying. Those eyes, freakishly similar to his own, shone with certainty. "No way… you're totally my daddy! I just know it!" she declared with unshakable conviction.
Alan opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, her little voice started to wobble. Her small hands clutched his armrest like it was the only thing keeping her anchored to the earth. "Daddy… how come you're pretending you don't know me?" The words cracked, fragile as glass. "Is it 'cause I did something wrong? I promise I'll be super good, just… just please don't say you don't want me!"
Oh boy. Alan's brain short-circuited. Beside him, Samuel jumped in with his best damage-control tone. "Sir, she's probably just lost," he said gently, crouching near the girl. "Must've mixed you up with her real dad."
Alan tried again, softer this time. His voice lost its edge, because really, how do you talk tough to a tiny kid on the verge of tears? "Sweetheart, you've got this all wrong," he said carefully. "I'm not your dad. Did you lose your family somewhere? Do you know your room number? We can help you find them."
But the girl,Ariel, he'd later learn, just shook her head wildly, curls bouncing. "Nuh-uh! You ARE my daddy! I know you are!" Her lower lip trembled. "Don't make me go away, Daddy… please don't say you don't want me. Mom's not here, and I don't know which room we're in…" Her little voice broke off into soft sniffles, making Alan's chest tighten painfully.
Samuel tried another angle. "Hey, kiddo, you got your mom's number maybe?" he asked, crouching to meet her eyes, voice gentle.
"Nope… don't have it," Ariel said, small and heartbroken.
Great. Just great. Alan rubbed his temples, a headache brewing behind his eyes. As if his day wasn't already a mess, now there was a mystery child glued to his wheelchair, calling him Daddy in a way that felt way too natural, way too… real.
The elevator dinged, saving him from replying. "C'mon, we're here," he said gently, trying to sound firm but not scary.
Reluctantly, Ariel let go of the wheelchair like it physically hurt her, trailing behind as Samuel pushed Alan out of the elevator. Her fancy little shoes click-clacked on the marble floor, a tiny shadow following close. "Daddy…" she whispered again, barely audible, but the sound hit Alan square in the chest, like a punch he wasn't ready for.
Alan sighed. What was he supposed to do? Leave her wandering the hotel like a lost puppy? "Take her up to the suite," he told Samuel quietly. "Figure out who her folks are."
"Right away, sir," Samuel replied, though his brows knitted with the same confusion Alan felt.
The presidential suite had never felt so small. Alan parked his wheelchair by the panoramic windows, pretending to be absorbed in his phone, but really his attention kept drifting to the little intruder perched on the couch across the room.
Ariel sat with the posture of a perfect little princess, hands folded in her lap, feet swinging just above the carpet. But her big, searching eyes kept darting to him, full of curiosity, hope, and something he couldn't name. Every few minutes, she'd sneak a tiny peek when she thought he wasn't looking, like she was on some top-secret daddy-detection mission.
After a while, the silence got to him. "Want some water or something?" he offered finally, feeling ridiculously responsible for this miniature human who had staged a full-on one-kid invasion of his day.
She shook her head, curls bouncing, still studying him like he was a puzzle she needed to solve.
Alan caught himself noticing every little thing, how one curl kept falling into her face and how she'd absently brush it back with tiny fingers. His hand actually itched to fix it for her, which made zero sense. Alan "Ice Man" Blake didn't get mushy over random kids. He didn't… feel like this.
Then his legs decided to remind him why stairs were his sworn enemy, muscles aching from earlier exertion. He tried to subtly rub at the pain, but Ariel's eyes sharpened instantly.
Zoom! She flew off the couch like a mini superhero, concern written all over her face. "Your legs hurt, Daddy? I can fix that, I'm super good at massages!" Before Alan could even say "personal space," those impossibly small hands were kneading his sore muscles with surprising skill. Professional therapists hadn't done half as well.
"Thanks, kid," he muttered, softer than he meant to, warmth spreading through his chest in a way he didn't understand. Her little fingers seemed to know exactly where to press, like she had a built-in pain radar.
She looked up at him, grinning so wide her dimples nearly split her face in two. "No biggie!" Pure sunshine, pure innocence. And just like that, Alan felt his carefully built emotional walls crack. Oh no, he thought. Oh no, this is trouble.
Something about her smile bulldozed through every barrier he'd spent years constructing. The dimples, the way her whole face lit up like he'd just given her the greatest gift by saying thank you, it got to him. Big time.
He found himself studying her more closely. The determined tilt of her chin, the way she moved like a future CEO in training, even the tiny ballet-like steps when she shifted on the carpet. That head tilt… those eyes… giving him a weird, unsettling sense of déjà vu.
She hummed softly as she worked on his legs, a little melody that made something in his chest do strange, fluttery flips. She looked so at home in his space, like she'd always belonged there. Ridiculous thought, completely absurd… and yet, it felt true in some unexplainable way.
Alan shook his head sharply. Nope. Not going there. So what if she had his eyes? So what if he felt protective every time she sniffled? Focus. Find her parents. Return the kid. Ignore the way every "Daddy" out of her mouth felt like a sucker punch straight to his heart.
Reality came crashing back outside the hotel as a taxi screeched to a stop. Amelia barely had time to step onto the curb before two small boys came flying through the revolving doors, panic etched on their faces.
"Mom! Mom!" Luther yelled, voice trembling. "Ariel's gone missing!"
Amelia's heart flipped upside down. "What do you mean missing?" she demanded, dropping her bag in alarm. "What's going on?"
And just like that, her carefully held world tilted, fear slicing through her like ice as every worst-case scenario screamed through her mind.