Gabe stood outside, his hand gripping the dark wooden fence so tightly he feared he might snap one of the planks in two. In his other hand, he was holding seven years’ worth of envelopes that contained a huge piece of his life that he never even knew existed. When he suspected Aaron of withholding scripts and indie projects and went to his office to investigate, Gabe never could have imagined that he would find so much more than that.

Two days ago, he’d walked into Aaron’s office and told his secretary that they had a meeting that day. She’d seemed flustered that he had arrived without being on the schedule, but he assured her it was no problem and that he’d wait in the inner office. Years of success granted him a considerable amount of latitude.

The corner office with its floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city was practically the poster design for an egomaniac's lair. Pictures of Aaron hobnobbing with a who’s who of Hollywood lined the walls, all with Gabe front and center.

Closing the door behind him, he’d made his way to Aaron’s large glass desk and flipped on the computer. It took him three tries at the password “Dollars.” He only had to guess the correct number of dollar signs at the end—no shock there. Once he was logged into the computer, he went to the email and started checking through messages and folders.

He found the email from Matthew Short with the script he’d said he would send, along with a shitty reply from Aaron stating that Gabe just wasn’t interested. He wondered how many other projects he’d missed out on due to Aaron’s indiscriminate filtering. After years of blockbusters, it seemed odd that there was only one type of film studios were willing to consider him for. Now it made a little more sense.

Switching agents was the only way he was going to be able to have the kind of career he wanted … a career that provided him with more fulfilling projects. He had made more than enough money to last him a hundred lifetimes; he was a hair’s breadth away from quitting altogether. Being in the spotlight was something he always thought he wanted, until he’d gotten to live the life. He’d given up Alex for it, but now he knew that behind the camera was where he was most comfortable.

He’d told Aaron that he wanted to get into producing, and maybe even directing, and had instructed him to seek out projects that might offer the creative leaps he wanted take. Instead, script after script modeled so closely after the Stargazer films that they could be sequels were the only things Aaron sent him. It made his blood boil to think that Aaron had been the reason these types of projects never made their way to him.

In the email, Matthew mentioned that he’d couriered over the script for him to look at. He checked Aaron’s desk and didn’t see anything. Looking for the Matthew Short script, he started going through the filing cabinet in the corner. It was locked, so he gave it a few hard tugs to break the lock. If Aaron had a problem with it, he’d have to suck it up.

Running his fingers over the tabs, he stopped short when he found a file titled “Alex.” Memories of deep brown eyes and pouty lips flooded him, and he grabbed the thick folder out of the filing cabinet. Why did Aaron have a file on Alex? He crossed the room in swift strides back to Aaron’s desk and flipped open the folder.

Inside were seven card-sized envelopes, each packed full. He grabbed the first one. It had a big six drawn on the front and it was stuffed with a letter and photos. He pulled out a letter titled “Emma Year 6.” In it was a handwritten letter from Alex.

Emma’s started first grade this year. It’s amazing how quickly she’s growing. I bought her a bike with training wheels and she’s already whipping around the block without them as I chase after her. She's also reading easy-reader books; she’s quite the little book worm and usually asks me to read at least four books to her at night before she will go to bed.

She hasn’t started asking too many questions about you yet. I guess that’s a godsend. I’ve told her that her daddy is far away. I told her that maybe when she’s older she’ll be able to meet you and that we loved each other very much. Even with everything, at least she knows that her mommy and daddy loved each other when they made her.

I hope that’s true. I really hope that’s true. I don’t even know why I continue to write these letters and send pictures, because you never respond. I guess I hope that one day when she starts asking more questions and gets older and starts looking for you, I can tell her that I tried my best to make sure you knew about her and tried to do what’s best for her. I can’t imagine how you can look at the pictures I send you year after year and not want to know her, to meet her. She’s a really amazing little girl and I’ll do everything I can to protect her. Well, until next year ...

~Alex

P.S. You’re really a piece of crap for not being a part of your daughter’s life and I’ll never forgive you for it. I hope someday she can.

Gabe stood holding onto that letter for an eternity as his mind reeled. He started to crush the envelope in his hand before he realized that there were pictures inside. He ripped them out of the envelope and bent them back to flat from his crushing grip. It wasn’t until he started flipping through the pictures that the reality of the situation started to sink in. He had a daughter.

A gorgeous little girl with her mother’s deep brown eyes, his chestnut hair, and a smile that could melt an iceberg. It wasn’t until the tears started dripping onto the pictures that he even realized he was crying. Knowing that if Aaron came back to his office right then, he would kill him—strangle him with his bare hands—he grabbed the folder filled with the rest of the envelopes and stormed out of the office.

The secretary seemed startled and tried to stop him as he charged out of the waiting area. He didn’t even give her a backward glance. Taking the stairs, he ran down twenty flights of stairs until he hit the lobby and pushed out the front doors to his town car. Max, his driver, was ready and waiting as always.

Ever since getting a couple of DUIs a few years ago, he was determined not to make that mistake again. Having a driver was an easy solution to save himself and others, because the other option—quitting drinking—wasn’t going to happen, even though no matter how much he drank, he couldn’t drown the feeling that he just wasn’t whole.

Gabe tore into the folder as soon as his butt hit the seat and dug for the first envelope with a large zero printed on the front. He started flipping through all the pictures, his heart wrenching. There was one of Alex when she was heavily pregnant. Gabe ran his finger over the curve of her belly. The belly that held his child. He wished he could have been there to see her and to feel their child growing within her. It took everything in him not to go back and throttle Aaron to within an inch of his life.

“Boss, where we headed?” asked Max when Gabe didn’t say anything once he got into the car.

“I just need you to drive around for a bit, okay?”

“No problem, boss,” replied Max, pulling away from the curb and into traffic to begin their aimless drive around the city.

After flipping through all the pictures, he went through them again, this time taking in every detail. After the one of Alex pregnant, there was one of Emma right after she was born. She looked like a squishy little alien with a cute pink bow on her head. He smiled through his tears as he looked at his little girl. His little girl.

There were more pictures of her and Alex on that first day of her life. A sharp pain stabbed him in his chest—he’d missed the birth of his daughter. He hadn’t been there for Alex. He hadn’t taken the baby breathing classes, gotten to drive her to the hospital like a panicked idiot, or hold her hand as she tried to crush it while going through her contractions. He’d missed all of it, and the searing loss of everything he hadn’t been there for was compounded in his mind as he looked at all the other envelopes of years he’d missed.

He made his way through each one of the envelopes and watched his little girl grow up year by year. The addresses changed over time, to a couple of different states, but she always included them. After two envelopes, his phone started ringing non-stop. He knew who it was and he refused to answer.

If Aaron ever thought he could talk his way out of this, he had another thing coming. Because the next time he laid eyes on him, he was punching him directly in the face as hard as he could. It wasn’t until he started getting tag team calls from Aaron and Ciara that he finally turned the phone off.

He looked at the pictures of Emma again, her umbilical cord being cut, sucking on a pacifier, pushing up on her tummy with her little bright-blue eyes sparkling, crawling, reaching for a toy, and walking. He came to one of her first day of school and ran his finger over her big, bright, captivating smile. She had Alex’s riotous curls, but the color was his. The ache in his chest finally became too much and he had to put the pictures down. He felt like he was having a heart attack.

Why was she sending these to Aaron? Why hadn’t she tried to contact him? Did she hate him that much? He knew he screwed up, but he had a right to know his daughter. Her P.S.s on the letters made him think she had been trying to contact him and had obviously failed. Checking the envelope, they were all addressed to him, but with the address for the management agency. It was almost enough to make him tell Max to turn the car around so that he could beat Aaron within an inch of his life for keeping this from him for so long.

But there was one thing he knew for sure; he was getting his family back.