Chapter 5 - THE BOY WHO KNEW HIS VOICE
Ethan didn't confront the men outside Margaret Bell's house.
He called his security director, documented the vehicle's license plate, and waited until the authorities arrived. By the time he left, the SUV was gone.
Margaret refused to say anything more.
“I'm sorry,” she told him. “I thought the truth would protect you. Instead, it seems to have put you in danger.”
Ethan drove straight to Miller's Fuel & Grocery.
Claire was helping Noah choose a candy bar when he entered.
The boy turned toward the sound of his footsteps.
“Mommy?”
“I'm here.”
“Is that the man from yesterday?”
Claire's face tightened.
“Yes.”
Noah folded his cane and held it against his chest.
“Why does he sound angry?”
Ethan stopped.
He hadn't realized how much his voice carried.
“I'll try not to,” he said.
Noah considered him.
“Are you a friend of my mom?”
Claire moved between them.
“Ethan, not here.”
“I found something.”
Her eyes dropped to his coat pocket.
He saw the recognition before she could hide it.
“You went to Margaret.”
“I did.”
“You had no right.”
“She had a receipt.”
Claire closed her eyes.
For a moment, the entire store seemed to disappear around them.
Then Noah reached for her hand.
“Mommy, what receipt?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
Ethan looked at the boy.
“How old are you, Noah?”
“Six.”
“Your birthday?”
Claire answered before Noah could.
“That's enough.”
But the boy had already spoken.
“June twelfth.”
Ethan calculated the months automatically.
June twelfth.
Seven years earlier.
His hands began to tremble.
“Claire.”
She looked at him, and the fear in her face was no longer subtle.
“Please,” she whispered. “Not in front of him.”
He wanted to demand every answer she had withheld. He wanted to know why she had let him spend seven years believing the worst of her.
But Noah was standing between them, listening to every breath.
Ethan crouched until he was level with the boy.
“I'm sorry I frightened you.”
Noah tilted his head.
“You sound sad now.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Mommy sounds sad when she thinks I'm asleep.”
Claire turned away.
Ethan felt something break inside him.
He had spent years building a company that could withstand recessions, lawsuits, and competitors twice his size. Yet he had never considered the possibility that the woman he hated had been quietly raising his child.
He rose.
“I won't ask you to explain everything today,” he told Claire. “But I need to know whether he's mine.”
Claire's lips parted.
Before she could answer, the front door opened.
Blake Harrington stepped inside.
He wore a tailored coat and a smile that disappeared when he saw Ethan.
“Well,” Blake said. “This is becoming a reunion.”
Claire went rigid.
“Get out.”
Blake ignored her.
He looked at Noah.
“Hello, buddy.”
The boy recoiled toward his mother.
“I don't know you.”
“Of course you do.”
“No, I don't.”
Blake's expression sharpened.
Ethan stepped between them.
“Don't speak to him.”
Blake's eyes narrowed.
“Still playing hero, Ethan?”
“Try me.”
For a moment, neither man moved.
Then Blake pulled a folded document from his coat.
“I came to deliver a courtesy notice. This property has outstanding municipal violations. If they aren't corrected, the county can suspend operations.”
Ethan glanced at the document.
It was genuine.
It was also suspiciously timed.
“You knew I bought the property.”
“Of course.”
“And you came here personally to threaten a mother and her child?”
Blake smiled.
“I came to protect a business interest.”
Claire's voice shook.
“You came because you heard he was asking questions.”
Blake turned toward her.
“Careful, Claire.”
“No.” Her chin lifted. “Not anymore.”
He stepped closer.
“You remember what happened last time you tried to tell the truth.”
Ethan's blood ran cold.
“What happened?”
Blake looked at him.
“Ask your father.”
“My father's dead.”
“Then ask the people he left behind.”
Blake dropped the notice on the counter and walked out.
The silence that followed was broken by Noah.
“Mommy?”
Claire turned immediately.
“I'm here.”
“Is that the bad man?”
She swallowed.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Noah's fingers tightened around his cane.
“Will he come back?”
Claire held him close.
“I won't let him hurt you.”
Ethan looked through the glass at Blake's departing car.
Then he looked at Claire.
“Tell me what he did.”
Her face crumpled for a second.
“I will,” she whispered. “But you need to understand something first.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph of Ethan, taken outside the hospital seven years earlier.
On the back, in handwriting he recognized as his father's, were six words.
Keep them apart. Whatever it costs.
Below the message was a signature.
May you like
Not his father's.
Blake Harrington's.
