Adopted by the Billionaire✔️

[13]

Antonio
"Server," I called, my voice clipped.
"Yes, sir?"
"Did you see a little girl—where is she?" I asked, impatience edging into my tone.
"She was sitting at the table," the server replied carefully, "but she looked frightened. Like she saw something."
My jaw tightened. "And where is she now?"
"We can check the security footage—"
Before she could finish, I saw her.
Ellie stood near the window, completely still, her small body rigid as she stared outside. I crossed the room in seconds and scooped her up.
"Ellie," I said, keeping my voice calm despite the surge of anger in my chest. "You scared me."
Her hands clenched into my shirt. "I‑I saw my father."
I ran my fingers gently through her hair.
"Did you hide?" I asked softly.
She nodded.
"If you ever get scared," I said, firm but gentle, "you come straight to me. Always."
I looked outside, scanning the crowd. I didn't see him—but knowing he was nearby was enough to ignite something cold and dangerous in me.
The server returned, breathless. "Sir, we checked—"
"Thank you," I interrupted, already moving. "I found her."
I paid the bill and left without another word.

---

The children's play area was quieter. Safer.
"Ellie," I said, setting her down, "why don't you try the slide?"
She nodded and ran toward it. I took a seat nearby, never letting her leave my sight, and dialed Mat.
"Track Henry Locks," I said without preamble.
There was a pause. "Ant, you've called me more in the last two days than in the past two years."
"You know why," I replied.
"I do. And I found something," Mat said. "Henry Locks isn't her biological father."
My grip tightened on the phone. "That's not possible."
"It is," he said. "He's her stepfather. Which means—no legal custody."
I exhaled slowly. "Then who is her real father?"
"Classified. Even I can't access it."
"Meet me here," I said. "Children's playhouse. Now."
He arrived minutes later.
"Is this her?" Mat asked, nodding toward Ellie.
"Ellie," I called.
She slid down and approached cautiously, pressing herself against my leg.
"This is Mat," I said. "He's helping us."
Mat knelt. "Hi, Ellie."
She didn't answer.
I smirked. "Looks like she doesn't like you."
Before Mat could respond, Ellie darted between his legs. He doubled over with a startled yelp.
I laughed—actually laughed.
"Daddy, why is he hurt?" Ellie asked, concerned.
"He's fine," I said quickly, lifting her. "Just surprised."
Her face crumpled. "I hurt him..."
"You didn't," Mat said through a strained smile. "Promise."
Satisfied, she nodded.
"Let's talk later," I told Mat.
"Agreed," he said, retreating with dignity intact—barely.

---

Ellie asked to play more. I let her go to the swings, watching closely.
Another woman approached me with a boy.
"Can you watch him for twenty minutes?" she asked.
I assessed her. Then nodded once. "Twenty."
The boy—Xander—was eight. Curious. Loud.
He tested my patience within minutes.
Then I heard Ellie cry.
I moved instantly.
She was on the ground, clutching her wrist.
I knelt, examined it gently. "Sprain," I muttered.
I secured ice and a sling within moments.
"Does it hurt badly?" I asked.
She shook her head.
Good.
I called Dr. Cortez—ten days in a sling.
When the woman returned, I handed her back her child without ceremony.
"Teach him respect," I said flatly.
I lifted Ellie, her head resting against my shoulder as we left.
She was quiet now. Tired. Safe.
As I carried her through the mall, one truth settled firmly in my mind:
No one would ever take her from me.
Not him.
Not the world

revision: 3.10.26