NovelNext Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Silent Snowfall.
Ethan Smith stood at the hospital entrance, the scent of antiseptic lingering on his fingertips. He rubbed them absentmindedly as snowflakes settled on his lashes, blurring his vision.
"Daddy!"
A child's bright voice cut through the snowy wind. He turned to see Emily bounding toward him like a fawn, with Grace Sullivan following close behind, holding an umbrella, her eyes soft with warmth.
"Slow down," he murmured, crouching to catch the little bundle of energy as she crashed into his arms.
Emily tilted her head back, her nose red from the cold. "Daddy’s hair turned white!" She reached up to brush the snow from his head, giggling. "You look like Santa Claus!"
Grace stepped closer, gently brushing the snow from his shoulders. When her fingers brushed against his scarf, they both stilled for a fraction of a second. The deep blue scarf—she had knitted it for him five years ago.
"Let’s go home," she said quietly.
Ethan nodded, taking the umbrella from her. He tilted it carefully, shielding both mother and daughter beneath its cover while snow piled on his own shoulders, dampening his coat.
Around the corner, Sophia Sinclair gripped Luna’s hand tightly. The little girl squirmed uneasily. "Mommy, why doesn’t Daddy want us anymore?"
A golden light flashed before them, followed by the cold, mechanical voice of the system: "Warning: Host has been inactive for over 72 hours."
Sophia ignored it. Her gaze remained fixed on the three figures in the distance—Ethan bending down to listen to Emily, his profile softened in a way she knew too well. That expression had once belonged only to her and Luna.
"Host must proceed to the job market immediately," the system urged again.
Luna suddenly wrenched free. "I want to go to Daddy!"
"Stop!" Sophia snapped, but the sight of her daughter’s tears choked her voice. She knelt, roughly wiping Luna’s face with her sleeve. "Be good, Luna. Daddy… has a new family now."
The snow fell harder.
Three days later, Ethan was in a meeting when his phone buzzed. The message from Emily’s teacher made him stand abruptly: "Emily got into a fight at school?"
By the time he reached the office, the scene before him stole his breath.
Emily sat unharmed on a chair, swinging her legs, while across from her, another girl glared with a swollen cheek. At the sound of footsteps, both children turned—
"Daddy!" Emily rushed to cling to his leg, pointing accusingly at Luna. "She said you’re her daddy too!"
Luna’s pupils constricted violently. Her lips parted, then pressed tightly together—a telltale sign Ethan knew too well. She always bit her lip like that when she was hurt.
The teacher cleared her throat awkwardly. "Mr. Smith, this is Luna Sinclair, a transfer student. The girls had a disagreement over a family photo—"
Emily tugged his sleeve. "Daddy, can we go home? Mommy made your favorite sweet and sour ribs."
Luna’s head jerked up, tears finally spilling over. She turned and bolted, knocking over a potted plant by the door. As the ceramic shattered, Ethan heard the system’s icy prompt:
"Critical plot point detected. Host must make a choice."