Only Hope by Tyler Hamm

Oliver Xenon sat in the grand study of his Beverly Hills mansion, the glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows on the dark mahogany walls. The envelope in his hands trembled slightly, his breath caught between disbelief and fear. It had arrived this morning—no return address, no indication of who had sent it. But the handwriting, the elegant loops and curves, was unmistakable. Carly. His wife. His love. His greatest mystery. The woman who had vanished from his life fourteen years ago without a word. And now, here she was, speaking to him through a letter, from beyond the grave. With hesitant fingers, he unfolded the yellowed paper and began to read: Oliver, "If you are reading this, it means I am gone. I have known this day would come for a long time. From the moment I met you seventeen years ago, I knew my time was limited. I was sick, Oliver. Cancer had already made its home inside me before I ever entered your life. That is part of the reason I left—I didn’t want you to watch me waste away. I didn’t want to become a burden." Oliver exhaled sharply, gripping the letter tighter. She had been sick? All these years, and he had never known? A painful lump formed in his throat as his eyes continued down the page. "But that’s not the only reason why I left...." His heart pounded. "I was pregnant, Oliver." 1 _______________________________________________ His vision blurred for a second, the words taking a moment to settle in his mind before continuing to read. "I was carrying our child, and I was terrified. You were at the height of your career. Everyone adored you. I was afraid that if I told you, you wouldn’t want the baby—that I would only be a mistake that could ruin your life. So I made the choice for both of us. I ran. And now, that choice is no longer mine to hold. Her name is Eris. She is your daughter, Oliver. She’s at St. Helena’s Orphanage, and if you love me at all, if you ever loved me, you will take care of her. You are her only hope now." The letter slipped from Oliver’s fingers, drifting onto the polished desk below. His entire body felt like stone, unable to move, unable to breathe. A daughter. He had a daughter. His hand scrambled for his phone, fingers barely able to punch in the number written at the bottom of the letter. The call rang twice before a soft, professional voice answered. “St. Helena’s Orphanage, how may I help you?” "This is Oliver Xenon,” he said, his voice more desperate than he intended. “I believe my daughter, Eris, is there. I’m coming to get her. I’ll be there in two days.” There was a pause on the other end, followed by a cautious, “Sir, I—” “I’ll handle everything,” he interrupted. “Just… let her know she’s not alone anymore.” He hung up before the woman could protest, his mind already racing. His staff would need to prepare a room immediately. A teenager’s room. A home. He had spent his fortune on extravagant luxuries, but never had he thought to build a life for someone else. And yet, he would. For Eris 2 ______________________________________________ Two days later, Oliver stood outside the orphanage, his heart pounding harder than it ever had in any film premiere, any award ceremony. He had been on every screen across America, but nothing had ever prepared him for this moment. The large wooden doors creaked as he stepped inside, the scent of old books and polished floors filling his senses. A kindly-looking woman approached him, her eyes filled with recognition and something else—skepticism, maybe. “Mr. Xenon?” she asked. “Yes,” he confirmed, clearing his throat. “I’m here for Eris.” The woman nodded, motioning for him to follow. Each step echoed in his ears as she led him down a hallway, stopping at a modest room where a single figure sat by the window. Eris. She was small, wrapped in an oversized sweater, her dark hair falling over her face as she stared at the world outside. When the woman called her name, she turned slowly, her eyes—Carly’s eyes—fixing onto his. Oliver’s breath caught. She was beautiful. She was his daughter. "Eris,” he said softly, taking a step forward. “I’m your father.” She studied him for a long moment, her face unreadable, then simply said, “Where were you?” The words hit him like a slap. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he possibly say? That he hadn’t known? That he would have searched the world for her if he had? That none of it mattered now because he was here? Eris simply turned away again, her gaze returning to the window. Oliver had won countless hearts on the big screen, but he had a feeling this would be the hardest role of his life. And the most important. 3 _______________________________________________ The drive back to the mansion was filled with silence. Oliver had expected questions, anger, maybe even a tearful embrace. But Eris sat stiffly in the back seat, her gaze locked on the passing cityscape as if she had been forced into a world she wanted no part of. He glanced at her through the rearview mirror, trying to find traces of himself in her features. She had Carly’s dark hair, her sharp, observant eyes—but there was something else. A guardedness, a quiet defiance that made Oliver wonder just how much pain she had endured in her short life. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he said at last, breaking the silence. “I’m not afraid,” she replied without looking at him. “I just don’t know you.” Her words hit harder than he expected. He had spent years playing roles, slipping into the lives of fictional characters, but this was real. This was his daughter, and she didn’t trust him. Why would she? He had been a ghost in her life until now. “I know,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry.” She didn’t respond. Oliver turned his focus back on the road. The mansion loomed ahead, its grandeur undeniable, yet it felt cold and unwelcoming in this moment. Would she see it as a home? Or just another unfamiliar place where she didn’t belong? 4 _______________________________________________ When they arrived, his staff had done their best to make everything welcoming. A room had been prepared just for her—soft pastel colors, shelves lined with books, a plush bed she could sink into. But when they walked through the front doors, Eris barely glanced around. “Your room is this way,” Oliver said, leading her up the grand staircase. She followed without a word, her arms folded across her chest. When he opened the door, she took a slow step inside, scanning the room with an unreadable expression. “Do you like it?” he asked hesitantly. She shrugged. “It’s nice.” A beat of silence stretched between them. Oliver cleared his throat. “If there’s anything you want to change, just let me know. This is your space.” She nodded but didn’t move from the doorway. Instead, she turned to him, her expression still unreadable. “Why now?” Oliver exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know about you, Eris. If I had—” He hesitated, not wanting to make promises the past wouldn’t allow him to keep. “If I had known, I would have looked for you.” Eris studied him for a long moment before giving a small, skeptical nod. Then, without another word, she stepped inside her new room and closed the door. Oliver stood there for a moment, staring at the door that now separated them. He had thought bringing Eris home would be the hard part. Now he realized the real challenge was just beginning. Winning his daughter’s trust would take more than grand gestures or apologies. It would take time. And time was the one thing Oliver had never learned to be patient with. 5 ______________________________________________