The snow fell quietly on Fifth Avenue as Jonathan [music] Blake stepped out of his evening business meeting. At 37, he’d grown accustomed to these late nights, the endless negotiations that built his commercial development empire. His dark hair was touched with early flexcks of silver. His tailored black coat a shield against both the cold and the world.
Success had come early for Jonathan, but it had cost him something he was only beginning to understand he’d lost. He was reaching for his phone to call his driver when he heard a small voice barely audible above the whisper of falling snow. “Excuse me, sir.” Jonathan looked down to find a little girl standing on the sidewalk, no more than four years old.
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