Mommy, Please Marry Our Daddy

Chapter 4 A Father's Choice

Dominic

I watched the twins building their snowman through the park's wrought-iron fence, holiday lights twinkling in the gathering dusk. Snow drifted down in lazy swirls, dusting Lottie's purple hat and Noah's navy blue scarf. Five years of being a single father had taught me the delicate balance between protection and independence. But old habits die hard.

My hand instinctively touched the inside pocket where I kept their medical cards, emergency contacts, and the tiny photo of them as newborns. That photo was my reminder of how it all began – the betrayal that had changed everything.

"The nose is crooked," Noah said, tilting his head at their creation.

Lottie stuck out her tongue in concentration. "It's artistic."

My phone buzzed for the tenth time today – another message from the board about tomorrow's meeting. Three billion dollars on the line, but I ignored it. Dominic Sterling, CEO of Sterling Industries, could afford to let business wait, even during the busy holiday season. Right now, I was just a father watching his children play in the snow.

The simple button-down shirt and wool coat I wore felt more honest than any designer suit. They reminded me of college days, before I took over the family empire, before Vivian, before everything got complicated. Out here, nobody bowed or scraped or tried to curry favor. Nobody knew I could buy this entire park with a single check.

"Mr. Sterling?" James, my head of security, appeared silently at my elbow. He'd been with me since the Vivian incident, one of the few people I trusted completely. "The background check you requested on Emma Bennett came back."

My heart rate picked up at her name. Emma. The waitress with kind eyes who always remembered the twins' special hot chocolate order.

"And?"

"Former society girl. She was the granddaughter of Charles Bennett, the CEO of Bennett Global".

"What happened to her?"

"Ten years ago, her grandfather died in a car accident, and Bennett Global went bankrupt." James paused. "And five years ago, her mother fell seriously ill, which completely devastated the family."

I frowned. I remembered Emma as a gentle, kind girl with a warm smile for everyone. I had no idea she had been through so much.

"Go on."

"Now she lives with her mother and works three jobs. The coffee shop weekends, alterations at a boutique weekdays, and freelance design work whenever she can get it. Clean record, no debt except her mother's medical bills, no suspicious connections." He hesitated. "Except one thing..."

"What?"

"A sealed medical record from five years ago. We'd need higher clearance to access it."

I waved him off. "No. If it's sealed, we respect that." I'd had enough of people digging into private lives after what Vivian did.

The memory still burned. How she'd stolen my genetic material during what I thought was a routine medical check. Had my children without my knowledge. Then tried to use them as bargaining chips for a bigger divorce settlement. The tabloids had feasted on that scandal for months.

Since then, every woman who came near me or the twins got thoroughly vetted. It was cold, perhaps cruel, but necessary.

But Emma... something about her felt different.

"Daddy!" Lottie's shout snapped me back to the present. "Look who we found!"

I turned and my heart stopped. Emma sat on a snow-dusted bench, her brown hair catching snowflakes like stars. She'd been crying – I could tell from her reddened eyes and the way she clutched a small handkerchief. Something protective stirred in my chest, an instinct I thought I'd buried after Vivian's betrayal.

"You don't have to say yes," Noah was telling her earnestly. "Lottie gets excited sometimes."

"Very excited," I agreed, walking over. The snow crunched under my boots, each step bringing me closer to those remarkable green eyes. "What exactly are we saying yes or no to?"

Emma jumped at my voice. A faint blush colored her cheeks, making her green eyes seem brighter. "Oh! I... um..."

"Emma needs a husband," Lottie announced. "And we need a mommy. So I told her she should marry you!"

If I'd been drinking coffee, it would have sprayed everywhere. "Lottie!"

"But it's perfect!" My daughter's face glowed with the absolute certainty only a five-year-old could muster. "Emma's nice and pretty and makes the best hot chocolate. And she needs to get married so she can enter the fancy design thing!"

I looked at Emma, watching color flood her cheeks. Up close, I could see the faint freckles across her nose, the way her eyelashes caught the falling snow. Nothing like Vivian's calculated perfection. Everything about Emma was refreshingly, beautifully real.

"Design thing?" I managed to ask.

"Laurent's apprenticeship competition," she explained reluctantly. "It's... complicated."

"The one that requires contestants to be married?" The words slipped out before I could stop them. Stupid. Dominic the driver shouldn't know about exclusive design competitions.

Her eyes widened. "You know about it?"

Of course I knew about it. Sterling Industries owned thirty percent of Laurent's company. I'd been in the meeting where Laurent insisted the marriage requirement ensured his apprentices were "emotionally stable." I'd thought it was ridiculous then. Still did.

"I... read about it somewhere," I said lamely. Another lie to add to the pile.

"Miss Emma was supposed to get married tomorrow," Noah added quietly, his sensitive nature picking up on undercurrents adult might miss. "But the bad man made her cry."

Something cold that had nothing to do with the snow crept into my chest. The protective instinct that usually focused solely on my children suddenly expanded to include this woman with tear-stained cheeks.

"Someone made you cry?"

"It's nothing." Emma wiped her eyes with Noah's handkerchief – rocket ships, his favorite. "Just... realizing someone wasn't who I thought they were."

The irony of her words wasn't lost on me. Here I was, hiding my true identity, just like her ex had probably hidden his true nature.

"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it more than she could know.

"Not your fault." She tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I should go. Let you enjoy your holiday family time."

"No!" Lottie grabbed her hand. "You have to stay and help us finish the snowman. And then you and Daddy can talk about getting married!"

"Lottie," I started, but my daughter was already pulling Emma toward their half-finished creation.

I watched them work together – Emma showing Noah how to pack the snow just right, Lottie directing the artistic vision with the same authority she'd inherited from her Sterling genes. They looked like a real family. The kind I'd wanted for my children since the day I first held them, terrified and alone in that hospital room.

The kind of family I'd stopped believing in after Vivian's betrayal.

Don't trust so easily, the cynical voice in my head warned. Remember what happened last time. Remember the reporters, the scandal, the way she used the children as weapons.

But Emma was different. The background check proved she had no idea who I really was. She treated the twins with genuine affection. And now she sat in the snow, helping Noah position twigs for the snowman's arms, without a thought for her wet jeans or cold fingers.

"I'm sorry about Lottie," I said when Emma stepped back to admire their work. "She can be... enthusiastic."

"She's wonderful." Emma's smile was genuine now, transforming her whole face. "They both are. You've done an amazing job with them."

"Some days I feel like they're raising me."

She laughed, and something warm unfurled in my chest. When was the last time I'd made a woman laugh because of who I was, not what I owned?

"About what Lottie suggested..." Emma twisted her fingers together. A simple nervous gesture that somehow made her more endearing. "I know it sounds crazy."

"Completely crazy," I agreed, watching a snowflake land on her eyelash.

"Totally impossible."

"Absolutely."

We both watched the twins adding the finishing touches to their snowman. He listed slightly to the left, his stick arms uneven, his carrot nose decidedly crooked. He was perfectly imperfect, like this entire situation.

"Although..." she said softly.

"Although?"

"The competition is my dream. My one chance to break into the industry on my own merit." She kicked at the snow, and I caught a glimpse of the society girl she must have been once – someone who understood having and losing dreams. "But the marriage requirement..."

I should say no. Should explain that I was nothing like the simple driver she thought I was. That my life was complicated by board meetings and billion-dollar deals and publicity concerns. That the last time I trusted someone, she'd stolen my DNA and changed my life forever.

Instead, I heard myself ask, "How long would it need to be?"

She blinked those green eyes at me. "What?"

"The marriage. For the competition."

"One year." The words tumbled out quickly. "Just on paper, of course. I wouldn't expect... I mean, I know you don't really..."

"And the twins?" Always my first concern, my deepest worry.

Her eyes softened as she looked at them, and that more than anything told me what I needed to know. "They're amazing children. I'd never want to hurt them."

"They like you." More than they'd ever liked anyone since Vivian's betrayal. "A lot."

"I like them too." She bit her lip. "More than I probably should, given how little I know them."

I knew that feeling. Had been fighting it every Saturday morning, watching her remember Noah's favorite books and help Lottie practice her spelling with sugar packets. The way she looked at my children like they were precious gifts, not stepping stones to a fortune. Each small kindness adding up to something that scared and attracted me in equal measure.

"We'd need ground rules," I said slowly.

Her eyes widened. "Are you actually considering this?"

Was I? It was insane. Reckless. The board would have a fit if they knew I was even thinking about it. The press would have a field day when they discovered I'd married a waitress. And my mother would probably faint.

But looking at her – snow in her hair, cheeks pink from cold, wearing nothing designer but somehow more beautiful than any society woman I'd met – I knew I was already decided.

"One year," I said. "Just until the competition ends. We keep our separate lives, but present a united front for the twins' sake."

"And you'd... you'd be okay with that? Living with a stranger?"

I wasn't a stranger to her story. The background check had told me about her fall from society, her struggle to rebuild, her dedication to her mother. But she was a stranger to my truth. To the weight of the Sterling name and all it entailed.

Would she still look at me the same way if she knew? Would that genuine smile fade into the calculated ones I was used to?

"Sometimes strangers are safer than people you think you know," I said quietly.

She looked at me sharply, like she heard the history behind those words. But before she could ask, Lottie called out: "Daddy! We need help with the scarf!"

I held out my hand to Emma. "Shall we?"

She hesitated for just a moment before taking it. Her fingers were cold from the snow, but they fit perfectly in mine. No expensive manicure, just practical short nails and the slight roughness of someone who worked with their hands.

"One year," she agreed.

"One year," I echoed, leading her toward the twins and their crooked-nosed snowman.

I didn't tell her about the empire waiting in my office. About the reporters who would dig into her past. About the society wolves who would circle her, looking for weakness. About how keeping my identity secret might be the only way to know if what grew between us was real.

Those were tomorrow's problems.

Today, I was just a father watching his children build a snowman with a woman who looked at them like they were magic.

"The nose is still crooked," Noah announced.

"It's still artistic," Lottie insisted.

Emma laughed, and I found myself laughing too, even as my phone buzzed with another board message. Even as I knew this simple moment couldn't last.

One year.

What could possibly go wrong?