Daddy, where is our mummy?

CHAPTER ONE: THE RETURN

The seatbelt sign flickered off but I stayed frozen in my seat.

Through the tiny window, City A sprawled below me. Glass towers catching sunlight. Highways snaking like veins. A city I swore I would never see again.

Five years. Five years of building walls so high I forgot what existed on the other side. Five years of training myself to feel nothing when I heard this city's name.

And now I was back.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

You're not that girl anymore, I told myself. You're Vivienne now. CEO of Little Star Fashion. Powerful. Untouchable.

Su Wanwan is dead.

She died in a hospital five years ago, holding two tiny blankets and crying for babies she would never hold.

"Miss Vivienne?" My assistant's voice cut through my thoughts. "The car is waiting."

I gathered my things and walked through the airport like I owned it. Head high. Shoulders back. No one would ever look at me and see a victim again.

The expo went smoothly. Smiling. Networking. Pretending my heart wasn't pounding every time a tall man in a suit walked past.

By evening, I was exhausted.

I slipped out a side entrance. The street was quiet. Rain clouds gathered overhead.

Then I heard it.

Crying.

A little girl sat alone on a bench, clutching a pink blanket, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked about four years old.

My heart cracked open.

I knelt down slowly. "Hey there, sweetheart. Are you lost?"

She looked up and my breath stopped.

Her eyes. Big and round and storm-gray. I knew those eyes. I had loved those eyes once.

"I want my mummy," she sobbed.

Something inside me shattered. My babies would have been this age. They would have called for me like this.

"It's okay, baby. We'll find your family. What's your name?"

"X-Xingxing."

Little Star.

The world tilted. I had named my company Little Star for the babies I lost.

"You smell nice," she whispered. "Like vanilla. Like mummy."

Before I could respond, a boy ran toward us. Same age. Same eyes. Twins.

"Xingxing! I told you to stay by the fountain!"

He noticed me and stopped dead. He stared at me like he was seeing a ghost.

Then tires screeched.

A black car stopped abruptly. The door flew open.

And he stepped out.

Lu Jingchen.

Five years since I had seen that face. He looked haunted. Sharp cheekbones. Dark circles under his eyes. He ran toward us, panic and relief twisting his features.

"Xingxing." He scooped her into his arms. "Do you know how scared Daddy was?"

"The pretty lady helped me, Daddy. She smells like mummy."

He froze.

Slowly, he turned his head.

Our eyes met.

The world stopped.

Recognition hit him like a physical blow. His face went white.

"Wanwan?" His voice cracked on my name.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Five years of walls crumbling in one heartbeat.

But I wasn't looking at him.

I was looking at Xingxing.

At the tiny birthmark behind her ear.

The same birthmark I had.

The same birthmark my grandmother had.

"Pretty lady?" Xingxing tugged my coat. "Why are you crying?"

I touched my face. My fingers came away wet.

I was crying. I hadn't cried in five years.

"Wait," Jingchen said desperately. "Wanwan, wait—"

I ran.

Because if I stayed one more second, I would ask the question burning in my chest.

Those twins were the same age my babies would have been.

They had his eyes.

But that birthmark was mine.