The Safe Place

The room seemed to spin around Neville. The glass slipped from his fingers, shattering quietly on the floor as he pushed through the crowd, his steps sharp and fast, heading toward the side doors.

"Missing?" a teammate stammered behind him, voice cracking. "You mean she—"

Neville didn't wait for the question to finish. He stormed past well-wishers, through the hallways and into the quieter lounges and corridors. Each step felt heavier than the last, his heartbeat pounding thunderously in his ears.

Theo hurried beside him, voice soft and anxious. "She likes desserts… I thought she'd stay."

Neville rounded a corner, his tone dropping low and dangerous. "You thought?"

They reached the empty VIP dessert room. The scene was chaotic: tables overturned, sticky footprints smeared across the floor, and empty plates of macarons and tarts abandoned in haste.

"She's not here," Theo whispered, dread thick in his voice.

Neville's jaw clenched, muscles taut with tension. "Call security. Notify the organizers. Get me the video feed from the last ten minutes."

Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and dialed the event control. As he spoke, Theo stayed close—an anxious shadow, silent but alert.

Minutes later, after a frantic search through the security feeds, one grainy camera caught a quick flash of pink sneakers darting through a side door leading into a quiet lounge beyond. Neville's heart tightened as he recognized the scene—Theo's earlier description of the masked man holding Vivi clicked sharply in his mind.

"Notify every exit. She's with him now," Neville commanded, his voice clipped and controlled, though beneath the surface a cold panic gripped him tightly.

Theo pulled up the man's photo from earlier and quickly showed it to the security team: tall, masked, carrying dessert in one hand, with a napkin tucked neatly into his suit pocket. He repeated the details carefully, hoping the description would help narrow the search.

Neville stared intently at the frozen frame on the screen, fists tightening into fists. He had a guess who the man was, but the truth was hard to swallow—he wasn't ready to face it.

"Find him," Neville said quietly, but with an unmistakable edge of steel.

Theo gave a determined nod. "I'm on it."

Alone in the now-empty room, the trophy gleamed coldly at Neville's feet, a shining symbol of victory that suddenly felt meaningless. Without Vivi, the triumph was hollow, and the expression on his face shifted from pride to something far darker—vengeance burning quietly behind his eyes.

Meanwhile, in the quiet privacy of the lounge, the masked man—Maverbrick—held Vivi gently against his chest. Her eyelids fluttered heavily, weighed down by the sugar rush and exhaustion, and her small body slumped like a plush toy refusing to stay upright.

"Mister…" she mumbled, her voice thick and muffled from all the sweets she'd devoured. "Can't… walk..."

Maverbrick's eyes softened beneath the mask. He knew she wouldn't make it far on her own now. Carefully, he scooped her up into his arms, moving with practiced ease as he carried her out of the lounge and into the small, connected VIP bathroom nearby.

Setting her down gently in front of the sink, he turned on the warm tap. "Let's get you freshened up, alright?"

Vivi gave a sleepy grunt of agreement, still glazed with sugary bliss.

He perched her carefully on the edge of the sink, then took a soft towel and began wiping away streaks of ice cream and chocolate smudged across her rosy cheeks. Next, he filled a small cup with water and gently guided her through rinsing and gargling, washing away the lingering sweetness.

When the cleanup was done, Vivi blinked, her eyes brightening with new clarity. Without hesitation, she reached up and wrapped her tiny arms around Maverbrick's neck—an action so sudden and tender it startled him deeply.

"Thankoo… Daddy Marbrick!" she said, her childish pronunciation wrapping warmth and innocence around the name in a way he'd never heard before.

Maverbrick froze, the words hitting him harder than he expected.

What…?

He blinked, caught completely off guard, frozen in a moment of stunned silence. His heart pounded hard in his chest—once, then twice—as the reality of what he'd just said sank in. He had simply told her he was her daddy. No name, no big explanation. Just "daddy." It was a word he hadn't even dared to say aloud since the day they met.

And yet, here she was—this tiny, bright little bundle—accepting it without hesitation.

She looked up at him with big, shiny eyes, her face glowing with that pure, sweet kind of innocence that made his chest ache. "Daddy Mavvewbrick is nice," she said softly, her voice small but sure. "You give Vivi yum-yum cakes and wipe my face. Mommy say you're gentle when you wanna be."

Maverick swallowed hard, feeling a sudden dryness in his throat. Slowly, he crouched down so he could see her better, trying to keep his voice steady as he asked, "Wait a sec, kiddo… who told you my name?"

Vivi tilted her head like she was thinking really hard. "Mommy," she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the whole wide world.

"…What?" Maverick whispered, surprised.

She didn't hesitate. She reached into the tiny front pocket of her sparkly pink backpack and pulled out two folded letters. The paper was a little wrinkly from being carried around all day, but the seals were still stuck tight.

"Mommy wrote these!" Vivi said proudly. "She say I gotta give 'em to Daddy Number Three when I see him. That's you!" She pointed excitedly at a photo tucked inside the letters—showing a younger Maverick, masked and serious, with a tiny hint of a smile peeking out.

Maverick's fingers closed gently around the letters, but his eyes stayed fixed on her.

"She talks lots 'bout you, y'know," Vivi whispered, like she was sharing a big secret. "She say you got smile-eyes. Like… when people smile, but not with their mouth, just with their eyes. Mommy say Daddy Mavvewbrick's eyes do that."

She pointed at her own eyes with her chubby little fingers, crossing them in a funny way. "Mommy say Daddy Mavvewbrick got eyes like dat. I seen 'em, an' I knowed it—you was you!"

For a long moment, Maverick didn't move. The weight of her words, her innocent trust, and those letters—letters from her—pressed down on his chest like a heavy stone. He slowly sat back on his heels, staring at the child who looked up at him like he was the safest place in the world.

And though he hadn't read a single word yet, Maverick already knew deep down—he wasn't ready for this.

But this little dumpling didn't care. She had chosen him.