Conrad strolled up the stairs to Grayson Manor, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He was feeling better. He had left work early. After months of fighting, Stevie had agreed. They'd been married for nearly four years and he was ready to start a family. She promised him she'd stop drinking and try.
The minute he stepped inside, he knew. He felt the knot forming in his stomach. Sure enough, she was in the master bathroom.
"Stevie, darling," he whispered sadly. She had passed out, her head in the toilet. He helped her sit up. The smell made him nauseous. Not only had she been sick and passed out with her blond hair soaking up the vomit, she had that stale booze stench on her. He carried her to the tub, wondering how a woman could be so blacked out that she didn't notice her husband washing her hair and body. He cleaned her hair, washing all the bodily remains from it and wiped the smeared mascara from her cheeks before dressing her in cotton pajamas.
Her green eyes opened slowly as he placed the flowers by her nightstand. "Conrad," she smiled, reaching a hand into the air. "Bring me a drink."
"You've had enough. You promised me you'd stop drinking," he reminded her softly. "We want a baby, don't we?"
Stevie cackled that cruel, drunk laugh. "I'll never birth your demon spawn," she sneered before passing out again.
Conrad went to the guest room, opening the doors to the balcony for some fresh air. He let himself pretend his eyes watered from the wind but deep down there was no denying it. Married life wasn't how he imagined. He was working hard to build an empire, to take over the family business. Instead of feeling happy, he felt he was drowning in his sorrows. He stared out at the sea, wondering if anyone would miss the great Conrad Grayson if he died. He knew the answer. He was a wealthy man, but he had no one. He was all alone.
The phone rang, interrupting him. He frowned, not in the mood to deal with anyone.
"Hello?" He demanded.
"Conrad Grayson?"
"Who is this?"
"This is Sister Helen. I'm sorry to call you so late, but we need help-"
"Help? How?"
"Our budget is so low and I don't know ... it doesn't ... he just showed up..."
"Who just showed up?" He asked, his tone softening. "Did the orphanage get audited?"
"No, no. A boy. A little boy. On the playground. He just walked in with the rest of our children. No one knows anything."
"I'll be down in a little. I can drop the money off myself," he promised.
He knew before he stepped up to the orphanage. A group of kids were pushing a little toddler down.
"You don't belong here!" One yelled.
"Where are your parents?"
"You'll never get adopted!"
"Even the orphanage doesn't want you!"
The boys saw Conrad and raced off, giggling with each other at their victory over the much smaller kid. The kid turned quickly, and Conrad knew he was trying not to cry.
"Hey, what is your name?" He asked, bending down to the toddler.
"Patrick," the boy whispered. He looked at Conrad with beautifully broken brown eyes. Conrad had never seen such sad eyes.
"Why are you so sad, Patrick?" Conrad asked, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. "Did you lose your parents?"
"I don't have parents," he whispered sadly. After a moment he continued. "You can go talk to those other boys. They're better than me," he said sadly.
"I don't think that's possible," he whispered, unable to hide an amused smile as the boys stomach growled loudly. "Say, I've been hungry for a big burger and some fries. Do you think you'd like to join me?"
"Do you mean like a friend?" Patrick asked, licking his lips at the mention of food.
"Yes, but maybe also like a father and son," he offered.
"You want to be my daddy?" Patrick asked, giving Conrad the first smile.
"If you want," he said softly.
"Yes. More than anything!" Patrick smiled.