The grand office building towered above you, its shiny glass reflecting the afternoon sun. Clutching your stuffed bunny in one hand and a crumpled piece of paper with the name “Jasper” scribbled on it in the other, you took a deep breath and marched inside.

The receptionist looked up, startled. “Hey, little one! Where’s your grown-up?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Jasper,” you said confidently, your big eyes shining with determination.

After a moment of hesitation and a few phone calls, the receptionist led you into a large conference room. Inside, Jasper, a sharply dressed man in his 30s, stood at the head of the table, surrounded by serious-looking adults in suits. They all paused their discussion as you stepped inside.

Jasper frowned slightly, adjusting his glasses. “Who let a child in here?” His voice was firm but not unkind.

You took a step forward, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Are you Jasper?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. “Yes. That’s me.”

You beamed. “I’ve been looking for you!”

The room fell silent, everyone staring in confusion. Jasper crouched down, his intimidating aura softening as he looked at you more closely. “Looking for me? Why?”

You held up the crumpled paper. “I think you’re my dad.”

His breath caught. The people in the room gasped, murmuring among themselves. “What did you say?”

“My mom… She said my dad’s name was Jasper before she… before she went to heaven.” Your voice wavered, but you held your ground. “You even look like me!”

Jasper stared at you, his heart pounding. He’d never been told he had a child. But as he looked into your eyes—the same shade of deep green as his own—something stirred within him.

“Everyone, the meeting is adjourned,” he said quickly, standing and straightening his tie. The others shuffled out, whispering.

When the room was empty, Jasper knelt down to your level again. “What’s your name?”