Chapter 2

Aliya POV

Seven years can change a woman in ways love never could.

When I look at my reflection in the glass walls of my office now, I sometimes struggle to recognize the girl I used to be, the hopeful wife who waited by the clock, believing kindness meant love. That Aliya died a long time ago. What stands here today is someone harder, steadier, stitched together by loss and survival.

I am the CEO of Alira Holdings.

The name still feels unreal on my tongue.

My desk is neat, my schedule packed, my signature sharp and confident. People look at me with respect now. Some with admiration. None of them know that every success I built came from the ashes of rejection, family, marriage, and a night I can’t fully remember.

I didn’t rise easily.

After the divorce, my father disowned me without hesitation. To him, my failed marriage wasn’t just shameful, it was unforgivable.

“You embarrassed this family,” he had said over the phone, his voice cold and final. “Do not come back.”

I begged once.

Just once.

But pride mattered more to him than blood. From that day on, I had no parents. No home. No safety net.

I learned very quickly that the world is cruel to women who fall and refuse to disappear.

When I found out I was pregnant, I cried for three days straight.

Not because I didn’t want the baby but because I was terrified.

I couldn’t remember the man from that night. My memory of him was nothing but fragments: warmth, strong arms, a low voice. My vision had been blurred, my mind drowned in alcohol and heartbreak. I searched my memory again and again, but his face never came.

I was alone.

Completely alone.

Pregnancy was not gentle with me. I worked two jobs then, studied at night, and threw up every morning before sunrise. Some days I ate only bread and tea. Other days, I slept with my hands wrapped protectively around my stomach, whispering apologies to the life growing inside me.

“I’ll figure it out,” I used to tell my belly. “I promise.”

There were nights I cried silently, terrified of childbirth, terrified of failing, terrified of bringing a child into a world where even my own father had turned his back on me.

But the moment I heard my baby’s heartbeat for the first time, something inside me shifted.

I wasn’t just surviving anymore.

I was fighting.

Leo was born on a rainy morning.

The pain was unbearable. The room smelled like antiseptic and fear. I screamed until my throat burned, until my strength gave out, until suddenly, he was there.

Tiny. Wrinkled and Crying.

Alive.

When the nurse placed him in my arms, everything else disappeared.

He wrapped his tiny fingers around mine, and I broke down completely.

“I’m here,” I whispered through tears. “I’m not going anywhere.”

From that moment on, my life stopped being about what I lost and started being about what I had to protect.

Leo grew into a bright, stubborn, curious boy with too many questions and too much confidence for someone his size. He had my eyes. My temper. And a smile that could melt even the coldest room.

Which was why, at that exact moment, my office door burst open.

“Mummy!”

I sighed, closing my laptop as my five-year-old son ran toward me like a small hurricane.

“Leo,” I said, trying and failing to sound stern. “How many times have I told you not to interrupt when I’m working?”

“But Aunty Elena said you’re not in a meeting,” he replied, climbing onto my chair like he owned the place.

Elena, my assistant, stood at the door looking guilty.

“I tried to stop him,” she mouthed.

I waved her off.

Leo crossed his arms, studying me with those sharp little eyes. “Mummy,” he said seriously, “why don’t I have a daddy?”

The question hit me like a punch to the chest.

I froze.

He had asked before, of course. Children are curious. But today, his tone was different. Not curious.

Confused.

“I do have a daddy,” he continued. “All my friends do. So where is mine?”

I swallowed hard.

I pulled him into my arms, inhaling the familiar scent of his shampoo and crayons. “Leo,” I said softly, “some families look different from others.”

“But did my daddy leave me?” he asked, his voice small now.

My heart cracked.

“No,” I said quickly. “He didn’t leave you.”

“Then where is he?”

I had no answer.

The truth was too complicated. Too painful.

“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly.

Leo was silent for a moment. Then he hugged me tighter. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll protect you.”

Tears burned my eyes.

A five-year-old shouldn’t have to say things like that.

I kissed his hair. “You already do.”

He grinned then, the sadness gone as quickly as it came. “Can I stay here today?”

I smiled despite everything. “Only if you promise not to take over my office.”

“No promises,” he said cheerfully.

As he hopped down and began spinning my chair, I watched him with a mixture of love and fear.

He was my greatest blessing and my greatest secret.

Because somewhere out there, a man existed who didn’t know he had a son.

Leo’s words stayed in the air long after he said them.

“I want to see my daddy.”

My throat tightened. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. How do you explain absence when you don’t even know where it begins?

Before I could gather myself, Elena gently knocked and stepped fully into the office, sensing the heaviness instantly. She had been with me long enough to read my silences.

“Hey, champ,” she said warmly, crouching in front of Leo. “How about we give your mummy some quiet time?”

Leo shook his head stubbornly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I forced a smile. “Leo, mummy needs to finish some work.”

“I’ll stay quiet,” he promised, placing a finger on his lips in an exaggerated way.

Elena tilted her head, pretending to think. “Hmm… what if I take you downstairs?”

“No,” he replied instantly, hugging my arm.

“What if,” she added carefully, “we get candy?”

He frowned. “I don’t like candy.”

Elena sighed dramatically. “Ah. That’s unfortunate.” She stood up, then casually added, “I guess that means no chocolate candy either.”

Leo’s head snapped up. “Chocolate?”

“Yes,” she said innocently. “The big kind. With nuts.”

I tried not to smile.

He hesitated, clearly fighting an internal battle, then sighed like a tiny old man. “Fine. I’ll go. But just for a little bit.”

Elena  grinned triumphantly. “Deal.”

He hugged me tightly before sliding off my chair. “I’ll be back, mummy.”

“I’ll be right here,” I said, kissing his forehead.

As the door closed behind them, the office fell silent again.

Too silent.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. My chest ached.

Gosh… I don’t even know where he is, I thought bitterly. How do I tell my son about a man whose face I can’t remember? A man who doesn’t even know Leo exists?

I rubbed my temples, then straightened up. Crying wouldn’t help. It never did.

I opened my laptop.

Work filled the screen, a lot of meetings, proposals, financial reports. Numbers. Deadlines. Control. This was the one place where emotions couldn’t ambush me.

I threw myself into it.

If I couldn’t give Leo answers, I would give him security. Comfort. Opportunities. A life so full that the absence wouldn’t feel like a wound.

Meeting after meeting blurred together. Investors. Expansion plans. Risks I was willing to take without hesitation. I reviewed files late into the afternoon, my eyes burning but my focus sharp.

I would do whatever it took.

More money meant better schools. Better protection. A future where my son would never feel unwanted the way I once did.

When I finally closed a folder and glanced at the clock, exhaustion hit me all at once.

But beneath it was resolve.

I might not know who Leo’s father was.

But I knew exactly who I had to be.

Strong and unbreakable for my son.