Chapter 5 - The Sabotage and The Search
Jonathan spent the next two hours on the phone with his team of high-powered corporate lawyers. He wasn't calling about the merger. He was calling about custody laws, emergency foster placements, and the legal requirements to become a child's legal guardian.
"Jonathan, this takes months, sometimes years," his lead attorney warned over the phone. "And you're a single man with a high-profile job. The state doesn't just hand over kids."
"I have two billion dollars in liquid assets, David," Jonathan growled. "Make it happen. Buy the system if you have to."
When he hung up, he went to the guest bedroom to tell Emma they were going to get breakfast. He knocked softly. No answer. He opened the door.
The bed was made. The room was empty. The window was slightly open, letting in the cold city air. On the pristine white pillow lay a note, written in shaky, child-like handwriting on a piece of TechVision stationery:
Dear Jonathan,
Thank you for the chicken and the warm bed. It was the best night I ever had. But I don't want your company to break because of me. Please don't be mad. Goodbye.
- Emma
Panic—pure, unadulterated, blinding panic—hit Jonathan Miller for the first time in his adult life. It felt like a physical blow to the chest.
"Maria!" he roared, sprinting out of the room.
Within ten minutes, Jonathan had weaponized his wealth. He didn't just call the police; he called his private security firm. He had fifty off-duty officers and private investigators combing the streets of Manhattan. He paid off taxi dispatchers to put her face on their screens. He hacked his own city's grid to gain access to intersection traffic cameras.
For six hours, Jonathan drove his own car through the rain-slicked streets, ignoring frantic calls from the board of directors. The Singapore merger was falling apart. The stock was dipping. Michael Reynolds was staging a boardroom coup. Jonathan didn't care.
None of the money mattered if he couldn't find the little girl who had called him Dad.
As the sun began to set, casting long, dark shadows across the city, Jonathan remembered her story. He left me at the Greyhound station. He said to wait.
Jonathan slammed his foot on the gas, tearing through red lights until he reached the Port Authority Bus Terminal. He abandoned his million-dollar car on the curb, leaving the keys in the ignition, and sprinted into the massive, crowded building.
He searched frantically, pushing past commuters. Finally, in a dark, cold corner near the departing gates, he saw a tiny figure huddled on a metal bench, pulling an oversized t-shirt tight around her knees.
"Emma!"
She looked up. Jonathan dropped to his knees on the filthy terminal floor, pulling her into a fierce, desperate hug. He buried his face in her hair, breathing heavily.
"Don't you ever run away from me again," he choked out, his voice thick with an emotion he hadn't felt in decades. "Never."
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"But your company—" she cried, clinging to his jacket.
"TechVision is just a company, Emma," Jonathan said, looking her directly in the eyes. "You are my daughter. And I am taking you home."
