Chapter 3
No one speaks.
Clara looks like she might throw up.
Mark looks like he might break something.
Ethan looks at his son.
Really looks.
And decides.
The truth.
Always the truth.
“Yes.”
The word is clear.
Steady.
Lucas’s eyes go wide.
He takes a step back.
“Lucas, honey—” Clara starts.
But the boy holds up a hand.
Just like Ethan does when he’s had enough.
“You knew?” he asks Mark.
His voice is trembling.
Mark’s face softens.
He kneels down.
Opens his arms.
“C’mere, buddy.”
Lucas doesn’t move.
“Did you know?”
Mark lowers his arms.
“I knew your biological father was… out there somewhere. I knew his name was Ethan Carter. But I didn’t know he was here. I didn’t know any of this was happening today.”
He looks up at Ethan.
Hate and something else in his eyes.
Respect, maybe.
Or just the recognition of another man who loves the same boy.
“I’m your dad, Lucas,” Mark says softly. “I’m the one who taught you to ride a bike. I’m the one who comes to every game. I’m the one who tucks you in at night. Nothing changes that. Okay? Nothing.”
Lucas blinks.
Tears spill over.
“But he’s my dad too.”
It’s not a question.
He’s stating a fact.
One he’s been waiting his whole life to say out loud.
He looks at Ethan.
“Why didn’t you ever come find me?”
The question is simple.
And it destroys Ethan.
He kneels too.
Matches the boy’s eye level.
“Because I was lied to, Lucas. For a very long time. People I trusted told me your mom had moved on. That she was happy with someone else. That I should stay away and let you both have a good life.”
He swallows the lump in his throat.
“And I was stupid enough to believe them. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I would have been here. Every day. Every game. Every birthday. If I’d known you existed, I would have walked through fire to get to you.”
Lucas studies his face.
Searching.
For lies.
For weakness.
For whatever a nine-year-old boy needs to see in the father he never knew.
“Can you throw a curveball?”
Ethan blinks.
Then smiles.
It’s the first real smile he’s had in years.
“I can throw a curveball that’ll make your head spin.”
Lucas considers this.
“Mark throws a pretty good one.”
“Bet I can throw a better one.”
Mark snorts despite himself.
“Big talk for a guy whose truck just got dented by a Little League pitcher.”
Lucas actually laughs.
A small, shaky sound.
But it’s there.
Ethan stands.
Offers Mark a hand again.
This time, Mark takes it.
Slow.
Reluctant.
But firm.
“For the boy,” Mark says.
“For the boy,” Ethan agrees.
They shake.
Two men.
Both fathers.
Both loving the same son.
And neither one willing to walk away.
Clara watches them.
Her face is a mess of tears and something else.
Hope, maybe.
Or terror.
Because she knows what neither of them do yet.
That this is just the beginning.
That Ethan Carter doesn’t do anything halfway.
May you like
That when he finds out exactly who was responsible for stealing eighteen years of his life…
…he’s going to burn the whole world down to get them back.
