"Gemma, we agreed on ten years. That time is up now. I'd like to leave with Kira."

"You know he never liked her," she added quietly.

In the quiet of the coffee house, Josie Carr spoke with a bitter expression.

She had lived with Graham Holloway for ten years—ten long years, and still, she hadn't managed to thaw his heart.

It wasn't love that brought them a child—it was a night of drunken confusion. He'd pushed her onto the bed, dazed and careless, and Kira came from that.

Afterward, he gave her a villa and agreed to let her keep the baby. His only condition was simple: the child must never call him father. Publicly, Graham remained a single man.

"I will never marry you. Don't hold out hope.

"I'll pay child support, but don't expect me to acknowledge her. That child doesn't exist to me."

"Gemma, we agreed on ten years. That time is up now. I'd like to leave with Kira."

"You know he never liked her," she added quietly.

In the quiet of the coffee house, Josie Carr spoke with a bitter expression.

She had lived with Graham Holloway for ten years—ten long years, and still, she hadn't managed to thaw his heart.

Ten years ago, Graham's first love had left him and gone abroad. After that, he fell apart, sinking into a haze of alcohol and despair. He barely stepped outside the house.

Unable to bear watching her son waste away, Gemma sought out Josie. She offered her a million dollars to stay by Graham's side for ten years.

Josie had already carried a quiet crush on him since her school days. When faced with that offer, she barely hesitated before saying yes.

From then on, she began to pursue him.

When he was unhappy, she'd try anything to make him smile.

When he was sick, she stayed up all night at his bedside, running back and forth through hospital corridors.

Knowing he had a weak stomach, she learned to cook just for him. She managed every detail of his daily life.

She pulled him from the pit of heartbreak, stayed loyally by his side—but to him, she was just a nameless simp.

Once, she overheard his friends ask what she meant to him.

He only smiled and said nothing.

Then came the night he got drunk.

In a daze of blurred desire, he pinned her to the bed, and afterward, there was a child.

He gave her a villa and agreed to let her keep the baby. But on one condition: the child must never call him father. To the outside world, Graham remained a single man.

"I will never marry you. Don't hold out hope.

"I'll pay child support, but don't expect me to acknowledge her. She doesn't exist to me."

Graham's heart was like iron. He never once allowed their daughter to call him 'dad.'

When Kira was three, she slipped and called him that once—just once. He locked her in a room for twenty-four hours. She cried until her voice broke.

At four, she tried to hold his hand. He shoved her away so hard she fell down the stairs, nearly breaking a bone.

But yesterday, Graham came home looking genuinely happy. He brought Kira a gift and even promised to spend her birthday with her.

Kira had gone wild with joy. She kept asking if maybe—just maybe—Daddy liked her a little now.

But Josie knew better than anyone: his joy had nothing to do with Kira.

She had seen it herself—how tenderly he cared for his long-lost love, who had just returned to the country. How gently he held that woman's daughter, coaxing the little girl to call him "Dad," as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

That was when something inside Josie quietly died.

Gemma let out a long, heavy sigh. "So be it. If you've made up your mind, I won't try to stop you."

When she returned home, Josie began to pack.

Five-year-old Kira pushed the door open, eyes red. "Mommy, are we really leaving Daddy?"

Josie's chest tightened at the sight of her.

"Daddy's true love is back," she said softly. "We don't belong here anymore."

Graham didn't love her. He didn't love Kira, either.

Now that the woman he truly loved had returned, there was no longer a place in this house for the two of them.

Josie knelt down, cupping her daughter's small face. "Let's go abroad, just the two of us. Would you like that?"

Kira was a sensitive, perceptive child. She understood exactly what her mother meant.

Lowering her head, her voice broke. "But Daddy promised… he said he'd celebrate my birthday with me. He said he'd take me to the amusement park. I've never been to the amusement park with Daddy before…"

Josie knew how deeply Kira craved her father's love.

A child who had never been seen, never been embraced by her father—now that he had finally made a promise, even if it was a flame, she would fly into it like a moth, just to feel the warmth.

With teary eyes, Kira pleaded, "I really want to spend my birthday with Daddy. Can we give him three more chances? If he still doesn't like me after that… we'll leave for good."

Josie pulled Kira close, holding her tightly in her arms. In the end, she couldn't say no to her daughter's request.

"All right," she murmured. "We'll give Daddy three more chances."

Kira's birthday was in three days.

That gave Graham three chances.

And if he failed all three—

She would take her daughter and disappear from his world forever.

The next morning, Josie rose early to prepare breakfast for Kira.

Graham came downstairs, the stale scent of alcohol still clinging to him.

Kira clutched her little rabbit plush and ran toward him. "Daddy—"

Before she could finish, his cold, cutting glare rooted her to the spot.

"What did you just call me?" he asked, his voice low and sharp.

Startled, Kira clung tighter to her toy, her voice trembling. "Mr. Holloway…"

He tugged at his tie, visibly irritated, then turned to Josie with a warning. "If you can't teach her properly, get out of my house."

Bitterness welled up in her chest.

That was always his favorite phrase—get out of my house.

Each time he said it, both she and Kira would be filled with fear. But now, for the first time, she truly wanted to leave.

She didn't respond. Silently, she placed breakfast on the table and lifted Kira into her chair.

The eggs and toast were made just the way Graham liked them, but he didn't even glance at the plate. Instead, his tone was icily detached.

"Allison is back. Stay out of her sight for now. She doesn't like seeing you."

Then, glancing briefly at Kira, he added, "Her, too."

Josie looked at the chill in his expression, at the indifference carved into his features. For a moment, she wanted to ask—did he even have a heart?

But in the end, all she could muster was a quiet, "Okay."

After dropping Kira off at kindergarten, Josie went to her studio.

She had once been a fine arts major—talented, even celebrated. Before graduation, she had held her own solo exhibition.

But after giving birth to Kira, she gave it all up for Graham, Kira, and their home. Her paintings became little more than private indulgences, created in stolen hours.

Most of them were about Graham.

She had poured all her love onto the canvas, brushstroke after brushstroke, laying bare the depth of her devotion.

And yet, when he saw the paintings, all he said was, "Stop wasting time on meaningless things. The only person I've ever loved is Allison."

Graham was a block of ice—no amount of warmth could ever melt him.

That day, Josie dragged every painting she had ever made of him out to the edge of the city.

She doused them in gasoline.

Then she lit a match.

If all her efforts had been in vain, then she would choose to let go.

Countless images of Graham's face curled and blackened in the flames, swallowed up and turned to ash. Just like her love for him.

She would let him go, once and for all. Erase him completely from her life.

Suddenly, her phone rang in her pocket.

She answered it and heard the urgent voice of a kindergarten teacher on the other end.

"Kira's mom? Something's happened at school. Please come quickly."

A wave of unease washed over Josie.

Kira had always been a well-behaved child. She had never once caused trouble at kindergarten.

This was the first time a teacher had ever called her like this.

She rushed to the school office, only to find Kira standing in the corner, trembling, tears streaming, and hiccupping. Her small face was flushed an alarming shade of red.

Across the room, Graham stood with his usual cold, detached expression. Beside him was a little girl and a slender, elegant woman.

Josie recognized the woman immediately—Allison Blake, Graham's first love.

She clung to his arm with the effortless intimacy of a wife. The two of them looked as though they had always belonged together.

And the child by his side? That was Allison's daughter.

The moment Josie stepped into the room, she saw the girl grip Graham's arm and burst into tears. "Daddy, she bullied me!"

Kira's eyes widened in disbelief. Graham had never once let her call him that. The teachers all assumed Kira came from a single-parent home.

But now, another child could openly call him "Daddy" in front of everyone—and he didn't just allow it, he welcomed it.

He wrapped the little girl gently in his arms, comforting her in a soft voice. "Don't be scared, Cami. Daddy's here. Daddy will protect you."

That tender tone, that loving gaze—

Kira had never known any of it.

But when Graham turned to look at her, his expression turned hard, glacial. "Who taught you to fight with your classmates? Don't you have any manners? Apologize to Cami right now."

Kira flinched under the sharpness of his voice. She clutched her bunny plush tightly. Through her sobs, she stammered, "She… she tore my toy first…"

On the desk sat the torn bunny—last night, Graham had brought it home while drunk and muttered that it was a gift for her.

Kira had been thrilled. She had fallen asleep holding it, and even brought it to school this morning, unwilling to part with it.

But now, Cami Blake pointed at it, furious. "What do you mean your toy? That was for me! My daddy bought it for me! You're a thief!"

Thief. To a five-year-old, that word cut deeper than anyone realized.

Kira's eyes turned red, her small fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. "I'm not…"

She looked up at Graham, desperate for him to defend her. Just once.

But he averted his gaze, cold and unmoved.

Allison stepped in with a soft smile. "Graham did buy Cami several toys yesterday. She didn't like the bunny, so he took it home. Maybe Kira just happened to have the same one."

The sadness in Kira's eyes deepened.

So the gift she had treasured—her only gift from her father—was nothing more than a discarded afterthought.

Still, she whispered, her voice full of hurt, "But… Daddy gave it to me…"

Graham's brows furrowed.

He avoided her gaze again and said with indifference, "So what? It's just a toy. You were still wrong to hit someone. You owe Cami an apology."

Then he turned on Josie. "Is this the kind of child you raised? Hitting others, then showing no remorse? What kind of mother are you?"

Josie felt her heart go cold. She opened her mouth to speak.

But Kira tugged her hand.

Her eyes were red, her voice urgent. "It's not Mommy's fault. Mommy is the best mom in the world."

Then, as if afraid she'd said too much, she wiped her face with her sleeve, gave Josie a trembling smile, and said softly, "It's okay, Mommy. I'll apologize."

She knew—if she didn't apologize, Graham wouldn't let this go.

And her mother would be blamed.

She didn't want that. She didn't want her mom to suffer for her.

So, with her little heart breaking, she turned toward Graham and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Holloway."

The words landed with a quiet ache, slicing into Josie's heart like a blade.

"I'm sorry, Cami."

"I'm sorry… Cami's mom."

Then she reached out, took Josie's hand, and turned to leave.

The teacher, caught off guard by Kira's unusually subdued behavior, blinked and chased after her with the torn bunny in hand. "Kira, you forgot your toy."

Kira paused, glanced at it. Then, eyes filled with tears, she shook her head. "I don't want it anymore."

Josie stared at her in disbelief.

Graham stood frozen at the doorway.

A sharp ache bloomed in Josie's chest as she thought, 'Graham… you have two chances left.'