Father's Love Beyond Time and Space

CHAPTER 1: I hope marry well and be a good dad, In the next life

Jackson Hayes had built a fortune from nothing but brainpower and bad coffee. He was a classic tech nerd - more comfortable with code than conversation, happier in a hoodie than a Hugo Boss suit. His genius was a program he called "The Compass." While other people saw markets as chaotic storms, Jackson’s program saw the hidden currents. It crunched insane amounts of data, spat out probabilities, and showed millionaires where to park their money for the best, almost-magical returns. In five years, it turned his "struggling-to-make-rent" anxiety into a bank account that didn’t just have six figures - it had its own zip code.

The proof sat in his temperature-controlled garage: a fiery red Ferrari and a shark-like Lamborghini. They were the childhood dream cars he’d only ever seen as posters on his wall. Now, he could polish them on Sundays. It was quiet. Peaceful. Perfect for an introvert.

Because that was the thing. Building a fortune? That was the easy part. No distractions, just him and the glowing screen. It was like a superpower.

Dating, however? Dating was his kryptonite - like any other introvert.

Jackson had never been a popular guy. Not in the school cafeteria, not in the office break room. Now, as the boss, his small team was friendly enough, but there was a respectful wall there. He’d made a firm rule: Don’t mix business with romance. So, the chance of meeting a future wife through work was absolutely zero - nada!.

Then, he met Aliana.

Looking back, the signs weren’t just red flags; they were flashing neon billboards with sirens. Aliana was stunning - the kind of woman who turned heads in a room. She laughed like she was in a movie, and she focused that dazzling smile entirely on him. Jackson, dazzled and disbelieving, ignored the quiet voice in his head that whispered, A woman like this doesn’t just land in your lap unless you’ve got something she wants.

She was always nice. Accommodating. She’d say he worked too hard. "You need to live a little, Jackson!" she’d laugh, dragging him to loud parties where he’d stand by the wall, feeling like a misplaced computer terminal, she however would dance with every male in the room. His introverted soul recoiled, but he thought, This is the price. This is what normal, successful people do. She’ll settle down after we’re married.

Oh, how spectacularly wrong he was.

The saying is true: cheaters don’t change their stripes. They just get better at hiding the uniform. After the wedding, Aliana’s "niceness" evaporated like morning dew. She didn’t want to spend time with him. Excuses piled up: headaches, girls' nights, errands that took all day. He felt like a roommate who paid the bills for a ghost.

Things shifted when she got pregnant. Not toward kindness, but toward cruelty. She became a storm of comparisons. "My ex would never have bought this house." "My friend's husband takes her to Bali every year. What do you do? Code." He was never smart enough, rich enough, present enough. He felt himself shrinking under the weight of her disappointment.

Then, Alicia was born, his beautiful baby girl, a chance for a real family.

For a little while, Aliana became easier. Softer. She doted on their daughter, and Jackson, heartsick but hopeful, thought maybe motherhood had changed her. He buried himself in work, providing a fortress of security for his little girl, blissfully unaware of the battles fought when he wasn’t home.

He didn’t know that his sweet, quiet Alicia was also a victim of her mother’s storms. He didn’t see the pinches, the harsh yanks, the terrifying, whispered threats. The truth exploded one evening when he came home early and found Aliana screaming over a spilled juice box, her hand raised high above Alicia’s trembling, tear-streaked face.

Something in Jackson snapped. Not loudly, but with a final, icy click. The millionaire, the tech genius, the man who could bend markets to his will - he had failed at the only job that mattered: protecting his child, protecting his baby girl.

That night, he moved with a calm he didn't feel. He packed a small bag for Alicia, her favorite stuffed rabbit peeking out the top. He settled his six-year-old daughter, wide-eyed and silent, into her car seat in the back of the sturdy SUV, not the flashy Ferrari. "We're going on an adventure, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice steady.

But Aliana wouldn't let them go. She flew out of the house like a fury, her beauty twisted into something terrifying. She jumped into the passenger seat as Jackson reversed.

"What do you think you're doing? You can't take her! She's MINE! You're nothing! NOTHING WITHOUT ME!" she screamed, the words hitting him like physical blows. She was a possessed thing, yelling non-stop as he drove, focused only on the road ahead, on escape.

When he didn't respond, didn’t flinch, she went berserk. With a shriek of pure rage, she grabbed the steering wheel and yanked it with all her strength.

The SUV swerved violently, lurching across the yellow line and into the path of the oncoming headlights - two blinding orbs of a massive freight truck. There was no time to react, no algorithm for this.

Jackson’s last thought wasn’t of his money, or his cars, or his code.

It was a desperate, jagged prayer: If there’s a next life… God, let me choose better and be a good dad. Let me marry kindness, let me marry well. I’d give every penny to be a broke man in a happy home.

And for his little girl, strapped safely in the back: I’m so sorry, Alicia. You deserved sunflowers and silly songs. You deserved so much more than this.

The world dissolved into a symphony of shattering glass and screaming metal.