Chapter 6
Ethan didn't sleep that night.
He sat on the edge of the motel bed, his mind racing between hope and fear.
What if Claire had changed? What if seeing him was too much for her, too much for the pregnancy? What if he had lost her forever, even though he was alive?
But beneath the fear was something stronger.
Certainty.
He remembered her voice. Don't say silly things. You'll always come home.
And he had.
He was home.
At nine-thirty the next morning, Ethan stood across the street from the market. He wore a baseball cap pulled low, a jacket that hid most of his frame.
Claire was already there.
Her cart was set up. The smell of her baking drifted across the street—orange zest, cinnamon, butter. The same smell that had filled their tiny apartment, that had filled the kitchen of their big house, that had been the scent of home for as long as he could remember.
Customers came and went. Claire smiled at each one, her hands moving quickly as she wrapped pastries and poured coffee. She moved more slowly now, pausing occasionally to rest a hand on her belly.
At ten o'clock, Daniel appeared. He said something to Claire, then took her place behind the cart. Claire nodded and walked toward a small park area nearby.
This was it.
Ethan's heart hammered against his ribs. He crossed the street, his legs feeling heavy and light at the same time.
Claire sat on a bench, her eyes closed, her face tilted toward the sun. She looked peaceful. Tired, but peaceful.
Ethan stopped a few feet away.
He couldn't speak.
The words were there—so many words—but they wouldn't come. He just stood there, looking at the woman he loved, the woman who was carrying his children, the woman who had never stopped believing in him.
Claire opened her eyes.
She saw him.
At first, there was no recognition. Just the polite curiosity of someone noticing a stranger.
Then her eyes widened.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
She stood. Swayed. Would have fallen if Ethan hadn't moved forward and caught her.
He held her.
His arms around her, careful of her belly, feeling her body tremble against his.
“Ethan,” she whispered.
Her voice was barely audible. Broken. Disbelieving.
“I'm here,” he said. “I'm here, Claire. I'm alive.”
She pulled back to look at him. Her hands came up to his face, tracing the scars, the lines that hadn't been there before. Her eyes were full of tears.
“You're real,” she said. “You're really here.”
“I'm real.”
She collapsed against him then, sobbing into his chest. Ethan held her, his own tears falling, his hand resting gently on her belly—on the three lives they had created together.
People stared as they walked by, but Ethan didn't care. Let them stare. He had found his way back.
After several minutes, Claire's sobs quieted. She pulled back again, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.
“How?” she asked. “The plane. Everyone said—”
“I don't know all the details yet. The plane went down. There was a fire. I was badly injured. They couldn't identify me. I was in a coma for seven months. When I woke up, my mother was there, telling me you had left me.”
Claire's face hardened.
“Your mother.”
The words were full of hate.
Ethan nodded.
“I know what she did. Marcus told me. I saw the way you're living. Claire, I'm so sorry. I should have been here. I should have protected you.”
“You were in a coma, Ethan. You couldn't have done anything.”
“I should have known my mother was capable of this. I should have seen it.”
Claire took his hand. Her grip was strong, despite everything.
“We'll deal with Margaret. We'll deal with all of it. But first... you're alive. That's all that matters right now.”
She placed his hand on her belly.
“Feel that,” she said.
Ethan held his breath.
A movement. Small. Faint. But unmistakable.
Another.
And another.
Three distinct movements.
His sons.
Tears burned his eyes again.
“Triplets,” he said.
“Three boys,” Claire said, smiling through her tears. “The doctor says they're healthy. All of them.”
Ethan dropped to his knees in front of her. He placed both hands on her belly, his forehead resting against it.
“I'm here,” he whispered to them. “Daddy's here. And I'm never going anywhere again.”
Claire ran her fingers through his hair.
They stayed like that for a long time, in the middle of the park, surrounded by the noise of the market, existing only in each other.
Eventually, Ethan stood.
“We need to be careful,” he said. “If Margaret finds out I'm alive, if Hale finds out—”
“Hale?” Claire's eyes narrowed. “Richard Hale is working with your mother. They're merging the companies. Marcus told me.”
“I know. And I think... Claire, I think the plane crash might not have been an accident.”
Claire went still.
“What are you saying?”
“I was carrying documents. Evidence against Hale. Bid-rigging. Money laundering. Connections to organized crime. I was going to turn it over to the authorities when I got to Charlotte. If Hale found out... if my mother found out...”
He didn't need to finish the sentence.
Claire's face went pale.
“They tried to kill you.”
“It's just a theory right now. But Marcus is looking into it. And until we know for sure, until we have proof, we need to pretend I'm still dead.”
Claire gripped his hand.
“I don't want to pretend. I want everyone to know you're alive. I want to go home.”
“We will. I promise you. But not yet. If they tried to kill me once, they'll try again. And this time, they'll come after you too. And the boys. I won't let anything happen to you. Not again.”
Claire looked at him. Really looked at him.
She saw the determination in his eyes. The strength. The same man who had built a company from nothing, who had loved her through the hardest years.
“Okay,” she said. “We'll do it your way. For now.”
Ethan kissed her.
It was their first kiss in seven months. It tasted like salt from their tears and like home.
When they pulled apart, Claire looked over his shoulder toward the market.
“Daniel will be wondering where I am.”
“Daniel is a good man,” Ethan said. “He told me you never stopped believing.”
Claire smiled.
“Daniel's sister was my nurse at the clinic. When I found out about the pregnancy, I had no one. He offered to help. He's been like a brother to me.”
“I'm grateful to him.” Ethan looked at her. “I need you to keep doing what you're doing. Keep selling bread. Keep living in the apartment. Don't let anyone suspect anything. Can you do that?”
Claire nodded.
May you like
“I've been strong for seven months, Ethan. I can be strong a little longer.”
“Good. Because I'm going to take everything back. Our home. Our company. Our life. And Margaret and Hale? They're going to pay for everything they've done.”
