Chosen by the Sinclairs

Gwen’s polite, accommodating smile shattered into a million pieces. Standing right there in the doorframe, casting a long, dark shadow over the worn threshold, was the exact same intimidating man who had just left.

Donovan Sinclair stepped back into the cramped director's office, bringing the suffocating chill right back with him. His broad shoulders seemed to take up all the available air in the room. This time, he was not alone. A teenage boy shuffled through the doorway right behind his towering frame.

The boy looked about fifteen years old, possessing striking, sharp features and a slim, athletic build. He wore pristine, expensive designer clothes that looked wildly out of place in the rundown orphanage, but his posture screamed discomfort. He shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, his gaze darting around the peeling floral wallpaper rather than meeting Gwen’s eyes.

"You tell this lady yourself," Donovan said. His voice remained an icy, detached monotone, cutting through the tense silence. He did not even bother looking at his son. "What is the name of the kid you are looking for?"

The boy, Declan, bit the inside of his cheek. He scuffed the toe of his immaculate sneaker against the faded linoleum floor, clearly wishing he could disappear. "It is not like I am the one specifically looking for her," he mumbled, his voice thick with defensive reluctance. He kept his gaze averted, staring a hole into the floorboards. "I just... I felt sorry for the kid. That is all."

Gwen gripped the edge of her desk, her mind scrambling to catch up with the sudden shift in events. She blinked her confused eyes at the awkward teenager. "Hello there. Which child are you talking about?"

Declan cleared his throat. A faint, embarrassing flush crept up his neck, staining his pale skin. "Hazel," he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough to hear.

Gwen stared at the boy in stunned disbelief. "Did you say Hazel? You have met this child before?"

Declan gave a stiff, hesitant nod. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, still refusing to make proper eye contact with the bewildered director. "I just think she seems okay."

Donovan turned his sharp, calculating gaze onto his son. His expression remained an unreadable mask of cold authority, but the rigid set of his jaw betrayed his brewing impatience. Declan’s stubborn pride and defensive attitude were clearly a nuisance to the older man. Dismissing the boy’s awkward fumbling, Donovan shifted his intense focus back to Gwen.

"Bring her here," Donovan demanded flatly. "I want to see the child immediately."

Gwen swallowed the lump of anxiety forming in her throat and nodded quickly. "She should be waking up from her nap. I will have someone bring her in."

A thick, heavy silence descended over the room. Minutes ticked by until a volunteer finally nudged the door open, carrying a groggy, fresh-from-sleep Hazel. The volunteer set the little girl down on the threadbare carpet. Hazel rubbed her eyes with tiny, sleepy fists, her messy hair sticking up in odd directions like a bird's nest.

Oblivious to the heavy, tense atmosphere saturating the room, Hazel blinked the sleep away. Her bright eyes locked onto the familiar face of the director.

"Mrs. Mercer!" Hazel chirped. She tottered forward like a wobbly little penguin, bouncing across the floor and throwing her arms around Gwen’s legs. She buried her face into the soft fabric of Gwen’s skirt, seeking comfort.

Gwen rested a comforting hand on the girl's soft hair. She took a steadying breath, bracing herself for the introduction. "Hazel, sweetie. This is Mr. Donovan Sinclair and his son, Mr. Declan Sinclair."

Hazel peeked out from behind Gwen’s legs. Her innocent, wide eyes darted to the tall, scary man in the sharp suit, then landed on the teenager standing beside him. The moment she recognized Declan, her face lit up like a beacon. She released Gwen’s skirt and bounced on her toes.

"Hi, Mr. Sinclair!" she greeted him, beaming a sunshine-bright smile that could melt the hardest of hearts.

Donovan’s piercing eyes flickered over her small frame. He studied her patched clothing, her messy hair, and her bright, unbothered expression. He did not smile. He did not soften his stance. After a brief, calculated pause, he turned his sharp gaze back to Gwen.

"That is the one," Donovan stated flatly. "Get the paperwork done."

Gwen’s heart did a nervous flutter against her ribs. Donovan radiated danger, power, and untouchable wealth. He possessed a commanding presence that made her instinctually want to shield the fragile children in her care. Could a man this cold and detached provide a loving home? Deeply worried that this imposing, powerful man might be far too difficult for a sweet child to deal with, Gwen knelt down to Hazel’s eye level. She placed both hands gently on the little girl's shoulders.

"Hazel," Gwen asked softly, making sure to keep her tone gentle and neutral. "Mr. Sinclair wants to adopt you. Do you truly want to go home with them?"

Hazel’s eyes went round with surprise. She sneaked a cautious peek at Donovan. He sat down on a flimsy wooden visitor chair, making the cheap furniture look like a dark throne. His icy, perfect features intimidated her. He looked like a villain from one of the storybooks. She quickly shifted her gaze away from the scary man and looked over at Declan.

Declan stood rigid against the wall. His face was stiff, his jaw tight, and his eyes darted away, trying his hardest to maintain his nervous, tough exterior. He looked like a cornered stray cat trying to act fierce.

Hazel’s lips parted, and she suddenly broke into a radiant, joyful grin. "Yeah, sure!" she declared loudly, her sweet voice bouncing off the dull walls. "I wanna go home with them!"

Hearing her bright, eager declaration, Declan’s tense expression softened. The rigid lines around his mouth smoothed out into something far more gentle. He curled his fingers into fists at his sides, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek as he fought back a deeply pleased smile. He turned his head away, staring at a stain on the wall, but the relief radiating from him was palpable.

Donovan remained in the office to handle the mountain of exhaustive adoption paperwork. Recognizing the bureaucratic process would take time, Gwen suggested the kids wait outside in the hall.

Hazel skipped out into the narrow corridor, her worn shoes tapping a happy rhythm against the floorboards. Declan followed her out, leaning his back against the peeling plaster wall and crossing his arms over his chest. He tried his best to project an aura of cool indifference.

Hazel closed the distance between them and confidently grabbed his hand.

Declan flinched, his eyes snapping down to her tiny fingers wrapping around his palm.

Looking up with innocent sweetness, Hazel beamed at him. "Mrs. Mercer told me you are the one who came looking for me. Thanks for taking me home! I really like you."

Desperate to maintain his untouchable, cool facade, Declan yanked his gaze away from her bright eyes. He pressed his lips into a thin line. "I do not like you," he muttered, his voice dripping with forced teenage angst. "So do not go getting any ideas."

Despite his harsh, dismissive words, a creeping heat crawled up his neck. His bright red cheeks betrayed his true feelings to anyone who bothered to look.

Hazel stared up at his flushed face. Her joyful smile faltered, her tiny shoulders slumping forward. "Oh. Okay." Disappointed, she dropped his hand. She stepped back, squatted down by the hallway baseboard, and quietly began doodling in the dust with her index finger.

Declan shoved his hands back into his pockets, mentally cursing himself. He peeked down at her through his eyelashes. As he watched her trace meaningless shapes into the grime, his eyes caught something troubling.

Angry, red scrapes covered her small palm. The raw, swollen skin looked painful, contrasting sharply with her pale hand.

Declan’s heart tightened sharply in his chest. His cool act vanished in an instant. "How did you hurt your hand?" he blurted out, unable to hide the concern bleeding into his tone.

Hazel paused her doodling. She bit her lower lip, her long lashes fluttering like delicate butterfly wings. "I hurt it when I fell," she mumbled, keeping her voice soft. "But I already treated it."

She had wrapped it up yesterday, but the bandage drove her crazy at night, and she had scratched the itchy scabs open in her sleep.

Declan let out a frustrated sigh. Incorrectly assuming she had simply been a reckless klutz when playing outside, he uncrossed his arms and bent down to her level. He reached out and gave her a gentle tap on the top of her head with his knuckles.

"You are such an idiot," Declan grumbled, though his voice lacked any real bite or malice. "I have never seen anyone mess up their hand like that."

Hazel sniffled, immediately bringing her arms up to cover her head defensively. "Got it," she whispered.

Seeing her huddle up like a tiny, scolded kitten, Declan felt the last remnants of his defensive walls crumble to dust. He could not help it. A genuine, unguarded smile broke across his face. She was undeniably cute, soft, and sweet.

The office door clicked open. Donovan emerged, adjusting his tailored cuffs. The exhaustive paperwork was done. He silently glanced down at the teenager and the little girl, his expression giving nothing away. He turned and led them down the corridor toward the main exit.

Hazel trotted after them for a few steps before she stopped. She spun around and saw Gwen standing in the office doorway.

Tears welled up in Hazel’s eyes. She broke away from the Sinclairs and sprinted back down the hall. She threw her arms around Gwen’s waist, letting out a choked, emotional sob for her final goodbye.

Gwen knelt, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. She wrapped the little girl in a warm embrace. "Be a good girl, Hazel. Listen to Mr. Sinclair."

"I am sorry," Hazel cried, her small shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs.

Gwen pulled a tissue from her pocket and warmly wiped the little girl's tear-streaked cheeks. "It is fine, sweetie. Do not worry about a thing." She smoothed Hazel’s messy hair. "I promise faithfully to find your missing necklace. I will take good care of Bucky, too." Gwen offered a reassuring smile. "And if Mr. Sinclair allows it, once the dog has his pups, I will pick out the cutest one and bring it straight to you."

Hazel sniffled, giving a hesitant nod. Gwen gave her a gentle nudge toward the waiting men.

Declan walked back down the hallway. He did not say a word. He bent down, wordlessly scooped the crying child up into his arms, and settled her against his chest. He gave Gwen a brief, acknowledging nod before turning on his heel. He carefully carried Hazel out the front doors and down the steps to the waiting luxury car parked on the gravel driveway.

Gwen stood on the porch, watching the sleek black vehicle pull away. She waited until the Sinclair family disappeared from view, leaving only a cloud of dust in their wake.

Once the driveway sat empty, the warm smile faded from Gwen’s face, replaced by a deep frown.

She turned on her heel and immediately headed down the opposite corridor. She bypassed her office and unlocked the heavy metal door leading to the orphanage’s monitoring room. She pulled up the rolling chair, sat down at the desk, and clicked the mouse to pull up yesterday’s security footage.

Gwen cared deeply for all the orphans under her roof. She considered them her own, and she desperately wanted to believe that Daphne would never intentionally hurt anyone. Daphne was just a child.

But as Gwen typed in the password, her hands felt heavy. She simply could not shake her growing unease over the young girl's recent odd behavior.

Daphne usually fought tooth and nail for the best items whenever donations arrived. Yet, during the clothing distribution three days ago, Daphne had displayed a strangely quiet demeanor. The girl had hung back near the walls, showing a suspicious lack of interest in the new dresses and shoes.

Combined with the incident at the old storage shed and Hazel’s missing necklace, a dark seed of doubt had taken root in Gwen’s mind. She leaned closer to the glowing screen, holding her breath as the video began to play.