Mallory opened the email from The Azure Oasis with trembling hands. She let out a loud whoop at the sight of the acceptance letter.

"I got it!" She shouted, unable to contain her excitement.

She quickly called Heidi and thanked her for recommending the hotel. "Oh my goodness, Heidi! I got it! I got the job!" she yelled into her phone, barely able to contain her excitement.

"That's amazing!" Heidi replied. "I'm so proud of you for following your passion and going after what you want. You're gonna rock this job!" Mallory smiled, feeling grateful for such an encouraging friend in her life.

What she was most looking forward to was becoming part of the team that made The Azure Oasis such a luxurious experience for their guests.
"This is it," Mallory thought. "This is where I want to be."

When Mallory set foot at The Azure Oasis for her debut, she was taken aback by the friendliness of the staff.

"Welcome to The Azure Oasis!" a woman with long, brown hair chirped as she embraced Mallory.

Mallory's first weeks flew by in the blink of an eye. She learned how to run the front desk operations and cater to guests' needs and requests.

The Azure Oasis was more than just a job to Mallory; it was a learning opportunity. It helped sharpen her hospitality skills and familiarized her with people from different cultures. Every day in the oasis brought a new experience that taught her something about the world. And it could be the place that will get her close to Harris, which she highly avoids. But it is a risk she took for Harriet's brighter future.

Harris sat in his lavish office, nursing a glass of whiskey as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange hue across the city skyline. His thoughts were a tangled mess, but one name continually resurfaced: Mallory. It had been five years since she left him without explanation, and the wound still throbbed like a fresh cut.

"Mr. Thompson," his secretary called through the intercom, "there's someone here to see you."

"Send them in, Ruby," he sighed, setting down the whiskey glass.

The door opened, revealing a tall, slender woman in a tailored suit. She had sharp features and an air of authority about her. Harris recognized her immediately as Jane Wilson, a respected private investigator who had once worked closely with Mallory.

"Jane, it's been too long." Harris stood and extended a hand. "What brings you here?"

"Hello, Harris." She shook his hand firmly, her eyes never leaving his. "I have some news I think you'll want to hear. May I sit?"

"Of course." He gestured to the chair opposite his desk.

Jane sat, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. "I'm here to talk about Mallory Phillips. She recently moved back to the city."

"Really?" Harris leaned forward, intrigued. "When?"

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Just 3 weeks ago, after her mother died of a heart attack. She's living here now, and there's something else you should know." She paused, searching his face for any sign of emotion. "Mallory has a daughter, Harris. She's four years old."

Harris felt the air leave his lungs, his heart pounding against his ribcage. "A daughter? Are you sure?"

"Positive." Jane retrieved a photograph from her briefcase and slid it across the desk. It was a candid shot of Mallory at a park, her radiant smile eclipsed by the joy on the face of a little girl as they shared an ice cream cone.

"Her name is Harriet," Jane continued, watching Harris's reaction closely. "I thought you should know."

Harris studied the photo, unable to tear away from the child who bore such an uncanny resemblance to himself. His thoughts raced, questions crashing into each other like waves in a stormy sea. Was it possible? Could this be his daughter?

"Thank you for telling me, Jane," he managed to say, his voice rough with emotion. "How did you find out about all of this?"

"5 years ago, I didn't give you a satisfying answer. Now, here it is. I just thought of finishing the job. Besides, I have people in the city that I could talk to, unlike in the small town where Mallory transferred," Grace stood, smoothing her suit jacket. "It's up to you what you do with this information, Harris. But I thought you had a right to know."

"Thank you," he repeated, his mind still reeling from the revelation. "Hold on," Harris got his check and wrote a specific number before signing it. "Here, take this," Harris handed a check to Jane.

"No need, Mr. Thompson; you paid me the right amount 5 years ago."

"Jane, this is for you; I won't take no for an answer."

"Alright," Jane took the check. "Goodbye, Harris." With that, Jane walked out of the office, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the photograph of Mallory and the child that could be his daughter.

Harris held the photograph in his trembling hands, unable to tear his gaze away from the image of Mallory and her daughter. The child, Harriet, was laughing with abandon, her blue eyes sparkling with joy as they crinkled at the corners. They were the same shade as Harris's, a detail that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Harriet," he whispered, looking at the picture more intently. He couldn't shake the feeling that something about the girl seemed... familiar. Her unruly curls, the same shade as his own, framed her face, and the more he stared, the more apparent the resemblance became.

The weight of uncertainty pressed on him, causing him to lean back in his chair. Could it be? He shook his head, trying to dismiss the idea. It was impossible, wasn't it? Five years had passed since he'd last seen Mallory, and she'd left without a word. He'd searched for her and tried to find answers, but he'd come up empty-handed each time. Now, suddenly, she was back in his life, and this beautiful little girl might be his daughter.

"What do I do?" he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd always been good at compartmentalizing, keeping his emotions in check. But now, faced with the possibility that he could have a child he'd never known about, he felt his control slipping.

He closed his eyes, replaying memories of his time with Mallory. Their stolen moments together while at work, the laughter and love they'd shared. Deep down, he knew she was the only woman who had ever truly understood him, the only one he'd ever truly loved. Yet, she had left him without explanation, leaving a void in his heart that had never been filled.

"Could I really be Harriet's father?" he asked himself, staring at the photograph again. The similarities were undeniable, but there might be other explanations... Right?

"Even if I'm not her father," Harris thought, clenching the photograph tightly, "I need to know the truth. For Mallory, for Harriet, and for myself."

With newfound resolve, Harris stood up and placed the photograph on his desk. He would find out the truth, no matter what it took. And if Harriet was indeed his daughter, he vowed to make things right with Mallory to prove that he could be the man she and their child deserved.