Julianna stepped down the altar stairs, her expensive silk gown rustling loudly. She reached out, her gloved hand grasping Daniel’s shoulder with fierce, trembling desperation.
"Daniel!" Julianna cried out, her voice breaking with genuine hurt and embarrassment. "Daniel, look at me! What are you doing?! This is absurd! It’s a trick! Some crazy woman sent a street child to ruin our wedding! You can't honestly believe this!"
Daniel opened his eyes. The tears in them were gone, replaced by a dark, terrifyingly sharp clarity.
He stood up. He stood up so fast that his mahogany chair behind the altar crashed backward onto the stone floor, the loud THUDringing out like a thunderclap.
He didn't look at Arthur Ashford. He didn't look at the Officiant. He looked down at Julianna.
Her eyes were wide, filled with tears of anger, embarrassment, and a deep, agonizing realization that she had never truly possessed the man standing before her.
"Daniel..." Julianna whispered, her voice shaking violently as she tightened her grip on his arm. "Please. Think about your career. Think about my family. Think about us. You step away from this altar right now, and everything you’ve built is gone. My father will ruin you."
Daniel looked down at her gloved hand resting on his sleeve. Then he looked down at little Leo, who was standing beside him, clutching his dirty jacket, looking terrified of the angry adults shouting around him.
Daniel reached up and gently, firmly, detached Julianna’s fingers from his arm.
"Daniel... what are you doing?" Julianna wept, her voice small, vulnerable, and completely broken.
Daniel stopped for half a second. He didn't turn to face her. He kept his eyes fixed on his son.
"I’m fixing the biggest mistake of my life," Daniel said, his voice flat, resolute, and final.
Without another word, Daniel stripped off his designer tuxedo jacket and threw it onto the pristine white marble floor. He tore off his silk bow tie, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his crisp white shirt.
He reached down, picked Leo up in one swift motion, holding his son securely against his chest. Leo wrapped his small, thin arms around Daniel’s neck, burying his dirt-smudged face into the crook of Daniel’s shoulder.
"Daniel! Don't you dare walk out those doors!" Arthur Ashford roared from the aisle, stepping forward with his fist raised. "If you leave, you are finished in this city!"
Daniel walked right past Arthur Ashford as if the billionaire were made of thin air. He walked down the center aisle, his heavy leather shoes striking the floor in a fast, purposeful rhythm. He ignored the gasps, the cameras flashing from guest phones, and the horrified stares of New York’s high society.
He reached the massive, ornate oak doors of the cathedral.
With a hard push, Daniel slammed the doors open.
Brilliant, blinding sunlight flooded into the dark sanctuary. The cool, crisp autumn air of the city rushed in, carrying with it the sounds of traffic, honking horns, and distant sirens—the sound of the real world.
Daniel stepped out onto the wide granite plaza of the cathedral.
He looked down at the child resting against his chest. Leo’s body was warm. His heart was beating fast.
For six long years, Daniel had been running away—running away from pain, running away from poverty, running away from the memory of the only woman he had ever truly loved.
He took a deep, agonizing breath of the cold city air.
He wasn't running away anymore.
He was running back.
"Which hospital, Leo?!" Daniel shouted over the roar of Manhattan traffic as he descended the grand granite steps of the cathedral three at a time. "Which hospital is she at?!"
Leo held tightly to Daniel’s shirt, his voice muffled against Daniel’s neck. "The big yellow brick one near the river! The one with the ambulances!"
"Bellevue," Daniel muttered, his blood running cold. Bellevue Hospital Center—the city's massive public hospital, where the uninsured and the forgotten were sent when they had nowhere else to turn.
Daniel sprinted toward the curb. A yellow taxi was idling at the red light at the corner of 5th Avenue. Daniel didn't wait for a hailing gesture. He ran straight up to the passenger door, yanked it open, and slid into the back seat with Leo in his arms, slamming the door shut behind them.
The cab driver, a middle-aged man with a thick grey beard, looked back in shock at the disheveled man in a half-undressed tuxedo holding a filthy, barefoot child.
"Hey, pal! I'm on break—"
Daniel pulled his wallet from his trousers, ripped out a stack of hundred-dollar bills without even counting them, and threw them into the front passenger seat.
"Bellevue Emergency Room," Daniel barked, his voice laced with a lethal, desperate urgency. "Drive. Now. Run every red light."
The driver looked at the thick stack of hundred-dollar bills, then looked at Daniel’s deadly serious, tear-streaked face in the rearview mirror. He didn't say another word. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, making the tires screech as the taxi shot out into traffic.