Ethan—the man who negotiated million-dollar deals without emotion—found himself playing peek-a-boo with a napkin.
And Isabella told him her story.
She had come from Texas, chasing a job opportunity in Spain. The baby’s father had left when he heard about the pregnancy. Her own family had turned their backs on her.
She had sold everything she owned to buy those plane tickets.
“I have a job waiting for me,” she said, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “A woman named Mrs. Alvarez offered me work taking care of her elderly mother. She said I could live there too.”
Ethan studied the address.
Something about it bothered him.
But he said nothing.
Hours later, as the plane crossed the ocean at 35,000 feet, Isabella finally fell asleep—her head resting on Ethan’s shoulder.
He stayed perfectly still so he wouldn’t wake her.
For the first time in years, Ethan felt something unexpected.
Peace.
When the plane landed in Madrid, morning sunlight lit the airport windows.
Ethan helped Isabella with her bags.
“Is someone meeting you?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“No… she told me to take a taxi to this address.”
Ethan hesitated.
“My driver is here,” he said finally. “Let me take you.”