Chapter 2

The back seat of the Porsche Cayenne was way too high for a five-year-old.

Sylvie had to work for it. She planted her hands on the edge, gave a small grunt, kicked her legs twice, and hauled herself up. She ignored Benjamin's hand the whole time.

Once she was in, she sat up straight, smoothed down her dress, and said in a calm, even voice, "Thank you. I don't need help."

Benjamin shut the door, walked around, and got into the driver's seat. The engine started with a low hum.

The car stayed silent for about ten seconds.

Then Sylvie broke the silence. "This is a 2024 Porsche Cayenne Coupe. You upgraded to the Burmester sound system.

"Judging by the wear inside, you've had it for about two years. The volume knob is more worn than the steering wheel, which means you listen to music a lot, and you like it loud.

"Your left ear's probably a little worse than your right. That's likely from work. You use a headset for conference calls a lot, don't you?"

Benjamin glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "You're very observant."

"That's not observation. That's deduction," Sylvie corrected, her tone serious. "Observation is just seeing. Deduction is figuring things out from what you see.

"There's no ring on your left ring finger, but there's a faint mark. You wore one for a long time and took it off recently. So, did you get divorced, or did you break up?"

Benjamin's grip tightened on the wheel. "Broke up. Three months ago."

"I see." Sylvie nodded, her voice carrying a strange, almost adult kind of sympathy. "So you're not seeing anyone right now. That's good for my plan."

"What plan?" Benjamin asked.

"Getting you and my mom back together," Sylvie replied.

Benjamin nearly drove onto the sidewalk.

He jerked the wheel, and the car swerved. The seatbelt in the back locked instantly, holding Sylvie firmly in place.

She didn't even flinch. She just reached up and fixed one of her little hair buns.

"What did you just say?" Benjamin's voice shot up.

"I said my plan is to get you and my mom back together," Sylvie repeated, slow and clear. "That's why I came to find you."

Benjamin pulled over to the side of the road. He needed a second.

He turned in his seat and looked at her.

The evening sun streamed through the window, casting half her face in gold.

She looked so much like Belle. She had that same relaxed expression, as if everything were already under control.

"Does your mom know about this plan?" he asked.

"Of course not," Sylvie said, without a trace of guilt. "If she did, she wouldn't have left five years ago.

"My mom has very strong principles. Her main one is not being a burden to others. She thought her existence would be a burden to you, so she chose to disappear. But that was a cognitive error."

"A cognitive error?" Benjamin raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Sylvie placed her hands neatly on her knees, her back perfectly straight, like a tiny professor about to give a lecture. "First, you are not other people. You're my father.

"Biologically and socially, you have the right to know I exist, and you have responsibilities toward me. That's not a burden. That's a duty.

"Second, my mom left without giving you a chance to explain anything. That was a one-sided decision. It wasn't fair. And third..."

She paused, then met his eyes. "She never actually forgot you."

The car went quiet.

Benjamin felt a sudden heat behind his eyes.

He turned away quickly, pretending to check the side mirror, and pressed his thumb against the corner of his eye.

"How do you know she didn't forget?" His voice came out a little rough.

"Evidence," Sylvie said, holding up one finger. "There's a locked drawer in her study. I figured out how to open it when I was three. Don't ask how. I spent a month studying how locks work.

"Inside, there's a torn piece of a bar napkin with a phone number and your name on it. It's a local number. She's kept it for five years."

Benjamin's mind went straight to that night. He had written his number on a napkin and handed it to her. He'd always assumed she threw it away.

Sylvie went on, "Also, every year on November seventeenth, she drinks red wine by herself. She just sits on the balcony and stares into space.

"I checked. That's the day you met. Don't ask how I know. I found her old phone and looked through her calendar from that year."

Benjamin closed his eyes. He remembered the first winter rain in Winmere City that day. He had been sitting alone in a small bar, still upset over a deal he'd just lost.

She was at the next table, also alone and drinking.

Their eyes met. She lifted her glass and said they were in the same boat. He laughed and said he was just unlucky.

They stayed there for four hours. And later...

Sylvie's voice pulled him back. "So this is the plan. Step one: find you and confirm you're someone my mom can trust.

"That step is complete. So far, you're doing fine. You didn't yell, you didn't deny I exist, and you didn't call my mom to tattle on me. I'm very satisfied with those three things."

Benjamin blinked. "Thank you for saying so."

Sylvie ignored that completely. "Step two: build a father-daughter relationship with you. That'll take time, but I know we can make it work.

"Step three is to create opportunities for you and my mom to meet again, and step four is to get you two..."

She lifted her hands and tapped her index fingers together. "You know."

Benjamin was quiet for a long time.

Then something hit him. He looked at her in the mirror again. "How did you even get through customs, coming all the way from Maltowel by yourself?"

Sylvie's expression shifted, just a little. "Well, I have a small trick."

"What trick?" he asked.

"I followed a couple who looked really rich and pretended to be their kid. When the officer asked if I was their daughter, they looked at me, and I just acted like they were my parents. So we went through together."

Benjamin had no idea what to say.

Sylvie quickly added, "I know that's not legal, so I've decided I won't do it again. This was a special case."

Benjamin took a deep breath, then another.

He had two options now.

He could call Belle and have her come pick up her genius daughter. Or...

He looked at Sylvie's bright, shining eyes in the mirror.

There was something in them that he knew all too well, the same thing he saw in himself. They never gave up, and they always found a way to get what they wanted.

He started the car again. "Are you hungry?"

Sylvie blinked, clearly caught off guard. "A little."

"What do you want to eat?" Benjamin asked.

"I've had local food in Maltowel for three days straight. I'm tired of it. I want a hot dog."

A small smile tugged at Benjamin's lips. "I know a place. It's near Zollseen Road. It's been there for forty years. I used to go there when I was a kid."

"When you were a kid?" Sylvie tilted her head. "You're willing to talk about your childhood with me?"

"Didn't you say step two is building a father-daughter relationship?" Benjamin turned the wheel and eased back into traffic. "Talking is the first step."

Sylvie went quiet for two seconds. Then, for the first time, she did something completely unlike herself.

She smiled shyly, in a way only a five-year-old could.

"Okay," she said. "Then can you tell me about the first time you ate a hot dog and burned your tongue? I bet there's a story like that."

Benjamin let out a short laugh. "How did you know?"

"Because when you mentioned that place, your expression changed," Sylvie said. "People make that face when they remember something embarrassing, but also kind of warm."

Benjamin met her eyes in the mirror again. "You're a lot like your mother."

"In what way?" Sylvie asked.

"You're really good at reading people," Benjamin replied.

Sylvie smiled again. This time, she didn't hide it.