He found himself locked in his office an hour later, a sizably large glass of brandy in front of him as he just thought—and thought and thought—about Grace's request. More specifically, he was thinking—and thinking and thinking—about how he was not the person she thought he was. Maybe his heart had grown. Maybe some of his bitterness had tapered off in the wake of Annie arriving at the mansion.

A man who could parent seven girls, however, he most certainly was not.

Truth be told, he was now second-guessing whether he could be father to even one.

It'd been a strangely long time since his emotions had caught him in such a tangle. Then again, it'd been a strangely long time since he allowed himself to have emotions at all. The last time he'd cried, up until he saw Annie dangling off that bridge, was Jimmy's death. The stock market crash, it'd gutted him, but he didn't allow himself to feel anything about it. People would be homeless, yes. Parents would have to give up their children, sure. Even some of his own employees, he wouldn't be able to save. That all was sad and he knew it, but what was the point in dwelling on any of that? He had to be strong for those he could help. He had to be strong, because that was the only way Warbucks, Inc. would persevere—and, clearly, the technique had worked to his advantage. Still in the midst of the Depression, he was one of the few with his head above water, and he'd only achieved that by shutting himself off. So, what would children do to that? What happened if he got caught up with all that came with adjusting to a new home? Was he even qualified to do that?

The more he thought about it, the more he was realizing, he was nowhere close to being the right person to pass life lessons onto children. What would he teach the girls? To never feel? To rule with an iron fist, nearly dying alone in the process? How was he ever to say the right words when they cried, when they got their hearts broken, when life got them down? He could barely be reliable to himself, and a good third of the reason he felt equipped enough to adopt Annie was because of how resilient she was. If he made mistakes with her, she'd be alright, because she was already a fantastic kid. What about the others? What if he made a mistake with the tough one, and she turned into a repeat of who he'd been all these years, only even more shut off? What if he made a mistake with the one who had all that anxiety? What if she was a ball of nerves until the day she died?

He wasn't a parent. Merely, he was someone who couldn't bear to let Annie go, and perhaps it was for his own selfish reasons that he was even considering this. What if she deserved other parents? What if she'd be far happier with a father who could actually feel everything she needed him to?

What if he was ruining her life by considering this?

Worse, what if he was dragging Grace down a path of no return?

This was a thought that sobered him, harshly. Glancing around his office, his throat began closing up, heart clenching at the notion that he could hurt them. He would, wouldn't he? This was a mistake—all of it. Marrying Grace was a mistake. Adopting Annie was a mistake. He was not the person who could have happiness, because he'd been too damaged for too long. All he'd do by letting them in was resigning them to a life of misery. They'd be better off, together, living on the streets, than they'd ever be with him and the mansion.

He wasn't father material. He wasn't husband material.

Downing the brandy all in one fell swoop, before he could let his heart take over again, he found himself rushing out of the office and up towards Grace's suite. He was surer of it the longer he thought. This was the greatest mistake he could ever make, and Grace was too blind to see how much of a mess she was getting herself into. He had to call it off now, before anything more took place. Maybe he could be gone by morning. Grace could take over with Annie, the other girls, too. She wasn't guarded, she could be everything they all needed. He, on the other hand, needed to do what he'd always done—shut himself in, because he was of no use to anyone otherwise.

It'd kill him to leave them all behind. Gut him, in ways he'd never be able to recover from.

It'd be even worse to know he was the reason they got hurt.

"Oliver?"

Grace was more than surprised when he appeared outside her suite minutes later. The brandy had started to take effect, and he was acutely aware this parting would be less than professional on his end. Had he had foresight before he started drinking, he'd have broken the engagement, then drowned himself in his woes. Now, it was too late, and he shook his head, marching into the room before Grace could invite him in.

"We need to talk about all this," he started, a definite slur in his voice. "It's a mistake, Grace. All of it, it's a mistake. I can't go through with it."

Her face drained of color, back pressed up against the door. Her own voice wavering, she questioned, "Go through with that?"

"I can't be a bloody father!" He scoffed, throwing his arms up. "I'll break her. She's so happy now, she has this great attitude, she's… strong. What about when I become her example?" He shook his head. "She teaches me how to be a better person, I can't possibly pass anything good onto her. For heaven's sake, I've been running from everything that ever goes on inside my head since I was her age. Now, she's showed up, and I've looked in the mirror, and I… I am not the person she needs." He settled down into an armchair near her window, letting out a heavy breath as he met her gaze. "I've come to tell you this personally," he continued. "You deserve that much, I won't be the coward who leaves with just a note behind him."

"Oliver?" she stepped forward, cautiously, placing a hand on his arm. "What do you mean, 'leave?'"

"I want you to have the mansion," he said quickly. "Come morning, I'm going to leave her and go… well, perhaps, I can see what kind of life I can make for myself back home. I want you to have the mansion, and I want you to raise Annie, all the other girls, too. I'm going to take a small amount of money for myself, enough that I can still live comfortably. The rest is yours. You…" He sighed again. "You deserve much better than me, Grace. I see that now. You are kind and courageous and you have a heart of gold. Those girls need a mother. It'd be a downgrade to have me as their father."

"What on earth are you talking about?" she shook her head, sitting down, tears brimming in her eyes. "Oliver. Do you know how devastated Annie would be if you left? She'd never recover. I'd never recover. Where's all this coming from? We were just… everything was just fine."

"Yes, and I was being foolish and not realizing I had someone's wellbeing in my hands," he pushed up from the armchair, beginning to pace. "I meant it when I said it on the terrace. I'm a businessman, nothing more. The best I can do as far as parenting goes is treat the children as though they're some work project, and that's not what they need. I would fail them, and I've clearly already failed you." He turned for a moment, meeting her gaze again. "Grace, how old are you?"

She paused, taken aback by the question. "I beg your pardon?"

"How old are you?" he repeated. "Mid-thirties, at most, right?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Thirty-three, though I'm not sure why it matters. Why are you asking?"

"I've got twelve years on you," he chuckled, bitterly. "I've got twelve years on you, and you deserve so much better than me. There are men out there who wouldn't have wasted five years not realizing what's right in front of them. There are men out there who'd have swept you off your feet the moment you met them. That's the kind of romance you deserve, Grace—not some foolish bastard who can't give you everything you need."

"Where is this coming from?" she got up, stepping over and placing a hand on his arm. "Oliver, the romance I deserve is the romance I want—and the romance I want comes from you. I don't care how long it's taken you to realize everything you have here. What matters is, you realized at all. I have no intention of looking elsewhere for love. What was it you said? That I'm your family? You're mine, Oliver. What makes you think I'm unhappy, or that I ever would be? I want this. I want you."

"But you don't know what you're getting yourself into," he shook his head, regretfully, placing her hand down back by her side. "You don't, Grace, not really. I… I've never been able to connect with anyone, much less a woman. I won't be what you need."

"It's going to be a learning curve," she whispered, reaching to place a hand on his cheek. He stepped back, though, and despite her gaze faltering, she continued on. "It's going to be a learning curve, but isn't it wonderful we can learn together? I don't expect it all to be perfect from the get-go. Rainbows and butterflies, those are the things of fairytales, I know that. But this is what a relationship is all about, isn't it? We constantly change, constantly figure out what the other one needs. I trust you, Oliver, why can't you trust yourself? I do know what I'm getting myself into—and I'm ready for whatever comes our way, good, bad, or otherwise."

"I can't, Grace," he shook his head. "I cannot watch you get hurt because of something I don't know to say or do. And, Annie," he rubbed his hand down the length of his face. "I tried disillusioning myself. I tried thinking this could be the beginning of something new for all of us. But, you know what they say—you can't teach an old dog new tricks, right? And you can't just… reshape everything you've come to know, even if it's for someone you love. I love her, Grace, and that's why I have to go. She needs to grow with someone who'll help her flourish. I'm not that person, you are." He stepped towards the door. "Please, tell her I've done this in her best interest. Tell her I'm always going to think of her. I'll write, I'm sure. Perhaps we can have telephone calls, down the line. I just—right now, I think it's best, for all of us, if we distance ourselves."

Tears were falling steadily down Grace's cheeks now. A handkerchief pressed against her face, she remained frozen in place, unable to think of anything to do or say—that was, until Oliver reached the door. As he placed his hand on the handle, she quickly raced forward, pressing her hand against the frame so the door wouldn't open.

"Oliver," she whispered. "You're drunk, please, think this through. I know you think this is the kind thing, the benevolent thing, but we need you—all of us. We couldn't go on the same if you weren't here."

"You're right," he answered, now reaching out and caressing her cheek like she'd tried to earlier. "You'll be happier. You know it, Grace."

"Please," she shook her head. "Don't do this."

He simply leaned in and kissed her, the previous excitement he felt over such an action now filled with dread. He'd waited so long to know this kind of happiness, and it killed him to think about leaving it behind. But, for Grace, for all the girls, he had to.

"I love you," he told her solemnly. "I'll be gone by the time you're up in the morning. Please, remember what I told you to tell Annie. Please."

"Oliver," she stepped further in front of the door, hoping to block his way out. Instead of succeeding, however, she only found herself gently being nudged back into the room, while he stepped out, lingering in the hall for a moment and just staring at her. Then, turning towards the stairs, he disappeared from view, while she collapsed onto the bed, beginning to sob.

How had they gone from ring shopping to this in the span of less than twelve hours? What had she done?

He wouldn't truly leave, would he?

What on earth was she supposed to tell Annie if he did?

/

Her sleep that night was anything but restful, and truth be told, the only reason she climbed into bed at all was for the sheer necessity of it. Her heart was telling her to go after him, to beg him not to leave. If she thought he were the Oliver of this afternoon, it was a plan that very well may have worked. The Oliver that'd appeared in her doorway, though, drunk and panicked, was an Oliver she knew she couldn't reason with. If she'd gone after him, there'd have been a screaming match, perhaps worse. Perhaps she'd have even been kicked out.

She settled for sleep instead, hoping he would come to his senses sometime throughout the evening, at least once the brandy wore off in his system.

Waking, though, to a far-too-early morning, she stepped into the hall in her robe and by the chatter of the maids who worked the six-am shift, she knew this was not at all the case. Most of Oliver's staff was above gossip—however, their boss leaving suddenly after proposing to his secretary and vowing to adopt a child was not something that could be ignored. Passing the rooms they were cleaning, she was astutely aware of her name being tossed around, and once she reached the kitchen and found Mrs. Pugh staring at her coffee pot with red eyes, she realized the news had spread to the entire household.

For once, she wasn't so sure she wanted Mrs. Pugh as a companion while she enjoyed her first mug.

"Is there another pot?" she asked, sighing and bracing herself as she smoothed her hand over the front of her robe. Mrs. Pugh turned around, almost robotically, then shook her head in a manner most unlike the cook.

"I assume you are aware of the events that have transpired this morning," she started, voice uneven.

"Mr. Warbucks had some business attend to, is all," Grace replied, a forced air of breeziness in her tone. "I hear he wanted to get an early start to the day so he could be here with the girls later."

The older woman met Grace's eyes, a pointed look in her own.

"It's a simple case of cold feet," she corrected, sighing as she did. "He'd had too much to drink last night. This happens all the time before a big life change, does it not? He'll be back before noon, I assure you of it.'

Mrs. Pugh shook her head, sadness etched into all her features. "His rooms have been cleared, Grace," she started. "Punjab and the Asp went with him. He left instructions for you on how to handle the financials, and five of the cars are gone, as well. I don't think this is just a case of cold feet."

She froze, a lump rising in her throat. For Punjab and the Asp to leave, that was serious. But, this was Oliver. This was the man who'd just bought her the ring of her dreams, who'd vowed to share his life with her.

He couldn't be gone for good, he just couldn't.

He wasn't that selfish.

"I am not going to panic," she said, coolly. "Mr. Warbucks is known for his displays. This one just happens to be bigger than all the others. We're going to continue on, business as usual, yes? We want the mansion to be in top shape when he returns, we're not going to lose our heads. He'll be back soon. Perhaps it'll be a day or two. Perhaps it'll be a week. But he will come back—I promise you that."

Mrs. Pugh just stared at her. "Grace, I—"

"Oh, would you look at that—the coffee's ready," she smiled, chuckling a little as she stepped forward to grab the pot. Pouring a mug for Mrs. Pugh, then herself, she sighed and took a long sip. Then, looking up, she glanced around. "How about I help you with breakfast this morning? I always did like cooking to get my mind off things."

There was a lot Mrs. Pugh wasn't saying—Grace knew it, could practically read her mind. To the cook's credit, however, she only passed Grace an apron, and as Grace shrugged it on, over her robe, she forced all the nerves out of her mind. So, Oliver was gone. So, Punjab and the Asp left with him. So, this looked dire.

Despite all that, he had to be coming back. He just did, he was Oliver.

She only prayed he could withstand her wrath when he finally did return.

Author's Note: So, uh... oops? This was definitely not a turn I was expecting the story to take when I took another look at the first chapter. I'd truly been planning for a strict continuation of Annie with the "happily ever after" and all that. This, though, just felt natural, and I'm actually very excited with the shift in original plan. If anyone's unhappy, I will tell you, though, that I am blameless. Any complaints, feel free to on Markaleen-she's been egging me on to emotionally damage Oliver, so, I suppose I just ran with it. At any rate, thank you so much for the reviews/favorites/follows so far, because I truly am having such a great time writing this one :D