The Hidden Daughter-From Abandoned Small-Town Girl to Wall Street Legend Chapter 01
I stood in the arrivals hall as the crowd streamed past me on every side.
People were hugging. People were kissing. Someone laughed and threw herself into her mother’s arms.
Mom’s words kept echoing in my ears, over and over, like a skipping record.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“They don’t know I have another daughter.”
I was a stain on her life—something to be carefully hidden away.
It hit me then that this was the first time I’d ever been on a plane. When it lifted off the runway, my heart had been hammering so hard I thought it might burst.
I was two years old when Mom left. She’d been running from my father and his fists. She dropped me off at Grandma’s house and slipped out of the country, and just like that, I never saw her again.
I’d asked her once: “Mom, can you send me a photo of yourself? Just one.” Maybe she never saw the message, or maybe she just never had the time. She sent plenty of things no one around here had ever seen before—exotic, exciting things—but never a single photograph.
Sixteen years.
It had been a full sixteen years since I’d last seen my mother.
I’d imagined our reunion a thousand times. Was she thinner now, or heavier? Was her hair still dark, or had she dyed it? Were her hands rough and calloused from years of manual labor? She’d be waiting for me at the airport, holding up a sign with my name on it. The moment she saw me, she’d pull me into the biggest hug of my life.
I didn’t sleep a single minute of that eight-hour flight. The woman in the seat next to me smiled and asked, “Heading abroad so young?”
I grinned so wide my eyes nearly disappeared. “My mom’s waiting for me over there.”
“How wonderful,” she said, giving my head a gentle pat. “A mother and daughter reuniting—there’s nothing more beautiful than that.”
I smiled and clutched the box of butter cookies in my hand even tighter. Mom had mentioned on a call once that she missed that flavor more than anything.
I could still smell the buttery sweetness lingering under my nose when the reality hit me all over again, and I felt suddenly, hopelessly lost.
I had been so excited. How did it end up like this?
I texted her my location: “Mom, can we just meet once? I won’t bother you, I promise. Please.”
No reply.
I waited in the arrivals hall for one hour. Then another.
Every time someone with an East Asian face walked by, I looked up. Every single time, it wasn’t her.
My phone was almost dead. I gripped it so tight my knuckles went white.
Finally, a message came through.
“Holly, just go back, okay? Be a good girl.”
“Today is Sophia’s birthday. The whole family is celebrating. It’s not a good time for you to show up.”
“Next time, okay?”
Next time?
Sixteen years, and Mom had said “next time” more times than I could count. Next time I’ll come home. Next time we’ll see each other. Next time I’ll bring you something nice.
For the sake of “next time,” I’d flown thousands of miles.
And it was still for nothing.
