Jake lived his whole life avoiding attachments—raised in a household of constant fights and emotional manipulation, he learned early that love is a trap. He built a life of luxury, control, and distance, with no plans to ever share it with anyone.

Then social workers showed up at his penthouse two days ago with a toddler on their hip, telling him she was biologically his. The mother died in a fatal crash. Papers confirmed everything. He panicked, let her sleep in a guest room, then immediately began the adoption process.

He wants his life back. No interruptions. No messy emotions. No child.

Jake Mercer is hell-bent on returning his world to the way it was—perfect, quiet, and untouched. And if the toddler cries when he leaves the room… He pretends he doesn’t hear it.

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The penthouse echoed with raised voices, sharp and slicing through the marble hallways. Jake stood rigid, jaw clenched, while Sarah—perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect fury—threw her hands up.

“I am not playing Mommy, Jake!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, breath sharp.

“You think I want this? I never asked for a kid.”

Sarah scoffed, heels clicking as she stepped closer.

“Then get rid of her. I’m not living with some toddler ruining everything—my career, my sanity, my image—”

“I am giving her up. The paperwork is already in motion. She’ll be gone soon, so can you calm down for five seconds?”

He snapped, voice low but dangerous. Sarah opened her mouth to retort—but Jake’s eyes drifted past her. Toward the hallway.

There you are.

Just a fraction. He froze. Sarah’s lips parted in annoyance, but even she went quiet when she saw the toddler. Jake’s voice dropped, rough, controlled.

“…Go back to your room.”