Page 1 of Fated Love with You

More Strings Attached

EPISODE 1

Autumn

The clamorous sounds in baggage claim have softened to a steady hum, overpowered by the train of thought that’s roaring through my mind.

Ryder has a daughter?

The beautiful girl in front of me has his eyes—that unmistakable shade of blue—and the longer I study her delicate features, the clearer it becomes: she’s his, through and through.

I blink a few more times, still in utter disbelief.

“The most important thing in my life…”

“There’s an extra loop in your ‘R’ here.” She rubs the whiteboard with her pinky finger. “If you make it too swirly, someone may think it’s an ‘S’ and you might pick up the wrong girl. Then I’ll be left here alone.”

“I’ll remember that,” I say. “You said your name was Adele, correct?”

She nods, capping the marker. “Adele Ivy Rochester. What’s your name?”

“Autumn Jane.”

“Your mom gave you two first names.” She smiles. “Should I call you Miss Autumn Jane or Miss Jane?”

“Either is fine.”

“Okay.” She pulls a cell phone from her jacket and steps back. Then she taps the screen a few times and holds it to her ear.

“Daddy, I’m in New York with Miss Jane,” she says. “Can you talk to me right now?”

“Of course,” he says, and I realize she’s hit the speaker button. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Everything.” She suddenly looks upset. “So much bad stuff happened to me today.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s been a never-ending nightmare…”

I lean against the luggage cart as she launches into a rapid-fire monologue. She’s speaking so fast that I can only catch bits and pieces of her words.

“I made first chair again,” “She made fun of me,” and “This train in the rain.”

Squinting at the embroidered gold letters on her blazer, I try to decipher the words.

Thornfield Boarding School

London

There’s a line of tiny print under those, but Adele turns away before I can read it. She rushes toward a baggage carousel and jumps atop the ledge. Then she tiptoes around the edge, continuing to vent to Ryder.

I type her school’s name into my phone’s search bar, and a colossal iron gate appears. The words ‘Home of the Most Brilliant Minds and Artistic Talents’ glide above it.

As I click through the website, Kylie’s name flashes onto my screen.

Unsure of whether to talk to her now or wait until I’m on the jet, I walk toward Adele.

“I shouldn’t have to do it at all,” she whines to Ryder. “What do you think?”