Chapter 4
That night, Ethan drives to his father’s house.
The big stone mansion on the hill.
The house he grew up in.
The house he left at eighteen and never came back to.
Until now.
He parks his truck in the circular drive.
Sits for a minute.
Grips the steering wheel until his knuckles are white.
The ball is on the seat next to him.
His ball.
His son’s ball.
He picks it up.
Feels the faded marker under his thumb.
Ethan Carter.
Eighteen years old.
In love.
About to be a father.
And completely unaware that his own father was about to destroy everything.
He gets out of the truck.
Walks up the stone steps.
Rings the bell.
The butler opens the door.
Wilkins.
He’s been there forever.
He looks at Ethan.
And for the first time in his life, Wilkins looks afraid.
“Master Ethan. We… we didn’t expect you.”
“Is he home?”
“Mr. Carter is in his study. But he’s not receiving—”
Ethan pushes past him.
“I don’t give a damn what he’s receiving.”
He walks the familiar halls.
Paintings of dead ancestors staring down at him.
Carpets thick enough to muffle a scream.
Everything here is polished.
Perfect.
Cold.
He reaches the study door.
Kicks it open.
Harrison Carter sits behind his massive mahogany desk.
Sixty-eight years old.
Silver hair.
Expensive suit.
Face like chiseled granite.
He doesn’t look surprised.
“Ethan. How nice of you to drop by.”
He puts down his pen.
Steeples his fingers.
“Your truck is parked on my grass. I’ll have someone move it.”
Ethan slams the ball onto the desk.
Hard enough to make the crystal pen set rattle.
Harrison’s eyes flick to it.
Just for a second.
Then back to Ethan’s face.
Impassive.
“Remember this? You should. You helped Clara return it to me. Or told me you did. Told me she’d dropped it off with a note saying she was moving on. That she didn’t want anything from me. Including me.”
Ethan leans over the desk.
“Turns out she never gave it back. Turns out she kept it. Gave it to my son. My nine-year-old son. Who I didn’t know existed until three hours ago.”
Harrison doesn’t flinch.
“Is that so.”
“Is that so? That’s all you have to say? You stole my son from me. You stole Clara from me. You told me she was married. She told me you told her I was DEAD. You forged an obituary, for Christ’s sake. You played both of us for eighteen years. And all you can say is ‘is that so’?”
Harrison sighs.
Leans back in his chair.
“You were eighteen, Ethan. A child yourself. You had your whole life ahead of you. The family business. Harvard. A future with the kind of people who matter. Clara Bennett was a nice girl from the wrong side of the tracks. A pregnancy at that age would have ruined everything. Both for you and for her.”
“So you decided for us.”
“Someone had to. You were too busy being in love to think about consequences. I did what any good father would do. I protected you.”
“By lying to me? By making me grieve a woman who was alive? By making my son grow up without a father?”
Harrison’s eyes harden.
“He has a father. Mark Henderson. Good man. Hard worker. Provides for his family. Better than you would have at nineteen. Better than you would have for a long time.”
“You don’t get to decide that!” Ethan shouts.
He slams his fist on the desk.
“You don’t get to play God with my life! With my son’s life! He’s a Carter. He’s my blood. And he’s going to know who he is. He’s going to know his family. And you… you’re going to pay for every day you kept him from me.”
Harrison stands.
Slowly.
He’s still an imposing man.
Tall.
Broad.
Built like the tycoon he is.
“Threaten me, Ethan? In my own house?”
“Not a threat. A promise. I’m going to take everything from you. The business. The reputation. This house. Every single thing you care about. And when you have nothing left… then I’ll tell you exactly what you cost me.”
Ethan picks up the ball.
Turns toward the door.
“Ethan.”
He stops.
Doesn’t turn.
“If you do this,” Harrison says quietly, “you won’t just destroy me. You’ll destroy the boy too. A custody battle between two wealthy, determined men? It’ll eat him alive. Mark Henderson will fight you. He loves that boy as his own. And he’ll have Clara on his side. Are you really ready to put your son through that?”
Ethan turns.
His face is cold.
“I’m ready for anything. Except losing him again.”
He walks out.
Leaves his father alone in the big cold study.
Harrison Carter waits until he hears the truck pull away.
Then he picks up the phone.
Dials a number he hasn’t called in years.
“Robert? It’s Harrison. We have a problem.”
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A pause.
“Ethan’s back. And he knows about the boy.”
