The dim light of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the large, dark office. Taylor sat in his leather chair, leaning back as he stared at a photograph in his hand. It was a picture of Aurora, the daughter he had seen just once-lying unconscious in a hospital bed. The photo had been sent to him by his connections, but it didn’t do justice to seeing her in person.
Her soft features, so much like her mother’s, haunted him. He had traced her face with his eyes while she slept, her innocence stark against the chaos of his own life.
A lit cigarette dangled between his fingers, the smoke curling upward in lazy spirals. He took a long drag, his eyes fixed on the photo.
“I wasn’t there when you needed me,” he murmured, his voice low but heavy with regret. “I know that. I left you, Aurora. I left your mother.”
He exhaled slowly, the smoke clouding the air around him. His free hand clenched into a fist on the desk.
“I didn’t leave because I didn’t care,” he continued, his voice growing rougher. “I left because I had to. My life… my background… it’s not something I wanted for you or your mother.”
Taylor leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His brow furrowed deeply as he stared at the photo. “I thought walking away would protect you,” he admitted quietly. “I thought it would keep you safe from the darkness that surrounds a man like me.”
His gaze grew distant as he remembered the moment he saw her in the hospital. Seeing her fragile body hooked up to machines had filled him with both guilt and rage. “I was wrong,” he said softly. “I failed you. I failed both of you.”
He reached for a glass of whiskey sitting nearby and took a long sip, the burn doing little to ease the fire in his chest. “Your mother,” he muttered, shaking his head. “She sold you. To my enemy’s son. Damian Wolfe.”
Taylor slammed the glass onto the desk, his frustration boiling over. “How could she do that? How could she hand you over to them?” he asked, as though Aurora could hear him.
He picked up the photo again, his hand trembling slightly. “And now you’re carrying his child,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “My grandchild… a Wolfe. The thought makes my blood boil.”
His anger erupted suddenly, and he slammed his fist onto the desk. The sound echoed through the room, rattling the glass of whiskey and the ashtray beside it. “I didn’t leave so you could end up here!” he shouted, his voice filled with rage and pain.
He stood abruptly, pacing the room, the cigarette still between his fingers. His movements were restless, his mind racing. “I thought leaving was the right thing to do,” he said, almost to himself. “I thought I was saving you from this life. But now… now you’re right in the middle of it.”
Taylor stopped in front of the window, looking out at the city lights. He took another drag of his cigarette, his mind flashing back to the hospital visit.
“I saw you,” he said softly, his tone more subdued. “Lying there, so still, so helpless. And all I could think was how badly I had failed you. I left to keep you safe, and it led you straight into the kind of life I was trying to shield you from.”
He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “And yet, here we are,” he said. “You’re tied to the Wolfe family, the very people I tried to keep you away from.”
He turned back to his desk, his eyes falling on the photo once more. “I don’t know what kind of man Damian is,” he admitted. “But if he’s anything like his father…”
Taylor’s jaw tightened, and he stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “I won’t let him hurt you, Aurora,” he said firmly. “Not now, not ever. I don’t care if he’s the father of your child. If he lays a hand on you, I’ll end him.”
He sat back down in his chair, leaning forward with his hands clasped tightly together. His mind was filled with thoughts of the daughter he had failed, the life she must have lived without him.
“I failed you,” he said quietly. “But I’m here now. And I’ll make it right, no matter what it takes.”
Taylor picked up the photo once more, his expression softening as he traced her face with his thumb. “You don’t know me,” he said. “And I doubt you’ll ever forgive me. But I’ll protect you, Aurora. Even if it costs me everything.”
He placed the photo back on the desk, his resolve hardening. Reaching for his phone, he dialed a number, his voice steady as he spoke.
“Get me more information on Damian Wolfe,” he said. “I want to know everything.”
As the call ended, Taylor leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the photo. The weight of his past mistakes was heavy, but his determination to protect Aurora was stronger than ever.