My Firefighter Father Chose Strangers,Now He Wants Me Back

The day I won the National Fine Arts Award, a popular reunion reality show crashed the ceremony.

"Ms. Simmons, is it true that you disappeared twenty years ago because you still resent your father—a rescue captain who selflessly saved the neighbor's child first, leaving you for last?"

I lifted my eyes to look at my father, Kenneth Abbott.

He stepped forward and grasped my cold hands, his own trembling. "Sweetheart, that child's parents were both dead. I had to save him first."

"You're my daughter. You understand that, don't you?"

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. I shook off his grip.

"My name is Jennifer Simmons. Not 'sweetheart.' You have the wrong person."

"The fire hero."

1.

The scattered applause died. Every eye in the room turned toward us.

I turned to leave, but he blocked my path again.

"Sweetheart, do you really have to do this? I was a rescue captain—saving lives was my duty. In that situation, I had to put civilians first to avoid any appearance of favoritism. By the time I went back for them... it was too late. I explained all of this to you years ago. Why are you still being so difficult?"

Kenneth Abbott—my father. His weathered face was a mask of hurt and disappointment, as if two decades had never passed, as if I were still the eight-year-old girl who needed to be lectured into "understanding" his noble sacrifice.

After twenty years, nothing had changed. He still couldn't see that he'd done anything wrong.

That cold, hardened place in my chest ached at his words. I let out a soft laugh—a sound so sharp it cut through the silent banquet hall like glass.

"Captain Abbott..." I met his gaze, my eyes frozen over. "I think you're mistaken. You have one son. No daughter."

I watched his pupils contract. Each word I spoke was slow, deliberate—a verdict being read aloud.

"Twenty years ago, your children died in that fire. Along with your mother."

I paused, as if just remembering something, and let a cold smile curve my lips.

"Oh, that's right—I almost forgot. You were busy back then. Busy accepting commendations. Busy adopting a new son. Busy being everyone's hero." My voice dropped. "Who has time to remember they once had a family?"

The color drained from his face. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He looked exactly as he had after the fire, when Mom learned that my two brothers and grandmother had all burned to death—when she screamed and collapsed and demanded answers. He'd stood there just like this. Ashen. Silent. A statue crumbling to dust.

I stepped around him to leave.

The host shoved his microphone back in my face.

"Ms. Simmons! Our sources say your family members died protecting you that night. Is your refusal to reconcile because you resent your father for not saving you first? Or is it that you can't bear to give up your comfortable life as a Simmons heiress?"

"Why did you really leave all those years ago?"

I glanced at that calculating face and smiled coldly. "Those questions are for Captain Abbott, not me. After all, he knows the answers better than I do."

I pushed the microphone aside and walked away.

"Jennifer!"

My father's voice finally cracked. "How long are you going to keep this up? Your mother lost her mind because of you! Do you want to destroy this family completely?"

His voice boomed through the hall, righteous and wounded.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"So she's the little girl from back then? And now she's a Simmons heiress?"

"Captain Abbott really got a raw deal... A hero at work, but his own family won't even support him."