“Sweetheart,” Eleanor Cross said smoothly, “choose your new father. Pick one of these men. They’re influential, wealthy, and can give you the life you deserve.”
A few executives exchanged amused looks. Some even smirked.
Everyone expected the girl to point at one of the faces—CEOs, financiers, political figures.
But Ava didn’t.
She studied the photos briefly… then lifted her head and looked past the table, toward the far corner of the room.
A man was mopping the floor there. The janitor. The only person who had smiled at her that morning.
She raised her finger.
“I choose Daniel.”
A wave of shocked gasps swept the room.
Eleanor blinked, certain she’d misheard. “Ava, darling,” she said, forcing a tight smile, “you misunderstood. These men are leaders. Investors. Senators.”
Ava’s voice stayed calm. “Daniel already gives me everything.”
Every head turned.
Daniel Brooks froze, his hands tightening around the mop handle. He’d been pretending to clean the same tile for over a minute, hoping to disappear.
Eleanor’s expression hardened. “He scrubs floors. That’s not a future.”
Ava met her mother’s gaze without flinching. “He’s the only one who talks to me. He listens. That is a future.”
Murmurs spread across the table.
Daniel swallowed and stepped forward, slow and careful. “Ma’am,” he said quietly, “your daughter doesn’t need money. She needs someone who actually sees her.”
Eleanor’s glare turned razor sharp. “You’re dismissed.”
But Ava was already running, wrapping her arms around Daniel’s waist like she dared anyone to pull her away.
That was the moment Daniel realized his life had just collided with something far bigger than himself.
The room crackled with tension. Some board members hid their grins. Others watched Eleanor like spectators at a public implosion.
Her heels clicked as she circled Daniel. “Do you know what you’ve done?” she asked coolly. “You embarrassed me—in front of my executives, my investors, and my child.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Daniel replied, jaw tight. “She chose.”
Ava clung to his arm, defiant and unafraid.
“You think this man can protect you?” Eleanor scoffed. “He can’t even afford a suit.”
Daniel’s uniform was worn, his boots scuffed—but his voice didn’t waver. “I may not be rich, but I won’t let her be treated like a transaction.”
“Integrity doesn’t buy security,” Eleanor snapped.