Chapter 2 - THE FIRST DINNER
At exactly 6:58 the following evening, a black sedan stopped outside a narrow apartment building in Queens.
Ethan sat inside for another two minutes.
He had negotiated billion-dollar acquisitions with less hesitation.
His driver glanced into the mirror.
“Sir?”
“I’m going.”
He did not move.
The driver wisely said nothing.
Finally, Ethan stepped out carrying a paper grocery bag.
He had no idea what fathers brought to dinner.
His assistant had suggested flowers for Clara and a toy for Emily.
Ethan rejected both.
Flowers felt romantic.
A toy felt like pity.
So he had gone into a grocery store himself.
The result was a bag containing pasta, tomatoes, bread, chocolate ice cream, and three lemons he had somehow purchased without knowing why.
Emily opened the door.
“You came!”
Her excitement hit him with embarrassing force.
“I said I would.”
She looked at the bag.
“Are those groceries?”
“Yes.”
“Do billionaires eat groceries?”
Ethan stared at her.
“What else would we eat?”
“I thought maybe chefs brought food to you.”
From inside the apartment, Clara laughed.
It was the first time Ethan heard her laugh.
He liked the sound immediately.
That irritated him.
The apartment was smaller than he expected. One bedroom. A narrow kitchen. An old couch that doubled as Emily’s bed. A rattling window unit struggled against the August heat.
There were no photographs of a father.
Only Clara and Emily.
Everywhere.
School pictures.
Birthday photographs.
A crooked photograph of Clara asleep while five-year-old Emily had placed stickers across her forehead.
Ethan stopped beside it.
“She thinks that’s the funniest thing she’s ever done,” Clara said.
“It is,” Emily insisted.
Dinner was awkward for seven minutes.
Then Emily began interrogating him.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Wife?”
“No.”
“Kids?”
“No.”
“Dog?”
“No.”
“Cat?”
“No.”
Emily frowned.
“What do you have?”
Ethan opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Clara looked down to hide a smile.
“A company,” Ethan finally said.
“That sounds lonely.”
Clara nearly choked on her water.
Ethan looked at Emily.
“Are all children this intrusive?”
“Probably.”
Later, Clara received a call from the hospital.
Ethan watched the color drain from her face.
Emily’s latest bloodwork was worse.
They needed her admitted the following morning for aggressive treatment.
Clara stepped into the hallway because she thought Emily could not hear.
Emily heard everything.
So did Ethan.
“How much?” Clara whispered into the phone.
Silence.
Then:
“I understand.”
Another silence.
“No, I don’t have that kind of insurance.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
Clara ended the call.
When she returned, she found Ethan putting on his jacket.
Her expression hardened.
“You can leave.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“You’re wearing your jacket.”
“I’m going to the hospital.”
Clara stared at him.
“Why?”
“To speak with Samuel.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Dr. Cole?”
“My brother.”
Emily looked between them.
“The doctor is your brother?”
“Unfortunately.”
Clara caught the bitterness.
“What happened between you?”
“That’s not tonight’s problem.”
He reached for his phone.
Clara stopped him.
“You are not paying her bills.”
Ethan looked genuinely confused.
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t agree to this so you could rescue us.”
“I’m not rescuing you.”
“That’s exactly what this looks like.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“Your daughter needs treatment.”
“And she’ll get it.”
“How?”
Clara’s silence answered him.
Ethan softened his voice.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“That’s what rich people say when they’re about to make somebody owe them something.”
That landed harder than she intended.
Ethan put his phone away.
“Fine.”
Clara blinked.
“Fine?”
“I won’t pay anything without your permission.”
She relaxed slightly.
“Thank you.”
“But I will speak to my brother.”
“Why?”
“Because Emily asked me to be her father.”
“Pretend father.”
Ethan looked toward the kitchen.
Emily was pretending not to listen.
“Children seem surprisingly strict about contracts.”
Clara smiled despite herself.
At the hospital the next morning, Ethan and Samuel Cole saw each other for the first time in twelve years.
Samuel had Ethan’s eyes but none of his armor.
“You’ve got nerve walking into my hospital,” Samuel said.
“I’m here for Emily Hayes.”
Samuel’s expression changed.
“How do you know Emily?”
“It’s complicated.”
“It always is with you.”
Ethan ignored the insult.
“How bad is it?”
Samuel folded his arms.
“I can’t discuss a patient with you.”
Emily’s voice came from behind them.
“He’s my dad.”
Both brothers turned.
Clara covered her face.
“Temporary,” she clarified.
Samuel stared at Ethan.
Then he laughed.
Actually laughed.
“I disappear from your life for twelve years,” Ethan muttered, “and this is how you greet me?”
“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”
But Samuel’s amusement faded when he reviewed Emily’s chart with Clara’s permission.
The disease was aggressive.
Treatment could work.
But Emily needed time.
And luck.
Later that afternoon, Ethan sat beside Emily during chemotherapy.
She looked tiny beneath the blanket.
“You can go,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“You probably have important work.”
“I do.”
“Then why are you staying?”
Ethan looked through the window.
Clara was asleep in a chair outside, finally defeated by exhaustion.
“Because your mother is sleeping.”
Emily smiled faintly.
“You remembered.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Remembered what?”
“You’re supposed to make sure she isn’t alone.”
His throat tightened.
Emily closed her eyes.
Twenty minutes later, she was asleep too.
Samuel appeared in the doorway.
He studied his younger brother sitting between mother and daughter.
“You look like Mom,” Ethan said suddenly.
Samuel stiffened.
Neither had spoken about her in years.
Samuel stepped inside.
“You were there when she died,” Ethan continued.
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were eleven.”
“Dad told me she didn’t want me seeing her sick.”
Samuel looked away.
“That wasn’t true.”
Ethan slowly stood.
“What?”
Samuel’s face changed.
“She asked for you.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What did you say?”
“She asked for you every day.”
Ethan stared at his brother.
“Our father told me she didn’t.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because he told me to keep quiet.”
Ethan’s fists tightened.
Samuel continued quietly.
“I was sixteen. I was scared of him.”
For twelve years, Ethan had blamed Samuel for being the last person beside their mother.
Now he understood.
Their father had separated them with one lie.
Behind Ethan, Emily stirred.
“Dad?”
The word was sleepy.
Automatic.
But both brothers heard it.
Ethan turned.
Emily’s eyes remained closed.
Her hand reached toward the empty chair.
Ethan sat again and took it.
Samuel watched him.
Neither brother knew it yet.
May you like
But Emily Hayes was not merely fighting for her own life.
She was quietly repairing theirs.
