Nicole led Kenneth to her car. They drove in a silence that wasn't awkward, but expectant. She pulled into the basement of a high-end apartment complex in Xinyi, the kind of place with thumbprint scanners and silent elevators.
When they entered the penthouse, a middle-aged nanny looked up from the playmat. "Miss Nicole? You're late, the little one was—" The nanny stopped, seeing a soaking wet, determined-looking man standing behind her employer.
"It's okay, Auntie Wang," Nicole said softly. "This is... this is the father."
Kenneth's legs felt like lead as he walked toward the centre of the room. There, sitting amidst a pile of wooden blocks, was a toddler with a tuft of dark hair and large, curious eyes. She looked up and tilted her head—a gesture Kenneth did every time he was thinking hard.
"Aria," Kenneth breathed. He knelt on the floor, his eyes filling with tears. He reached out a finger, and the little girl grabbed it with a firm, tiny grip.
In that moment, the "Social Status" her father cared so much about felt like a joke. This was his blood. This was his life.