Chapter 6
Sarah’s surgery was scheduled for Monday.
Ethan spent the weekend at the hospital.
Slept in the chair next to her bed.
Held her hand when she woke up scared.
Told her everything was going to be okay.
He didn’t tell her where the money came from.
Said a charity had stepped in.
Anonymous donor.
She was too tired to argue.
Too relieved to ask questions.
Sunday night—
Richard showed up.
He didn’t come in at first.
Just stood in the doorway.
Watched them.
Ethan saw him.
Didn’t say anything.
Just kept holding his mom’s hand.
Eventually—
Richard stepped inside.
He looked terrible.
Suit rumpled.
Eyes red.
Like he hadn’t slept in days.
“How is she?” he said.
Quiet.
Like he was afraid to wake her.
“Better,” Ethan said.
“Surgery’s tomorrow. They say she has a good chance.”
Richard nodded.
Stood at the foot of the bed.
Stared at Sarah.
“I used to love her, you know,” he said.
“Before everything. Before the money. Before Victoria. She was everything to me.”
“Then why did you leave?” Ethan said.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Richard didn’t answer right away.
He pulled a chair up.
Sat down.
Stared at his hands.
“I was twenty-two,” he said finally.
“Sarah was working at a diner. I was pumping gas. We lived in a studio apartment that smelled like mold. We were happy. Poor as church mice, but happy. And then—Victoria walked into the gas station one day. With her father. In a Bentley.”
He paused.
“Her father owned Hale Industries back then. He was looking for someone young. Hungry. Someone he could mold. He saw something in me. Offered me a job. Mail room. Bottom of the ladder. But the money—God, Ethan. It was more than I made in a year pumping gas.”
He looked up.
“Victoria liked me. I could tell. Her father pulled me aside after a month. Said if I married his daughter—he’d make me a partner. Said I’d never have to worry about money again. Never have to worry that my kid would go hungry. Never have to live in a moldy apartment.”
He looked at Sarah.
“Sarah was three months pregnant with you when he gave me the choice. Her and you and a lifetime of struggle. Or Victoria and money and security and everything I’d ever dreamed of.”
“And you chose the money,” Ethan said.
“I chose security,” Richard corrected.
“I told myself I was doing it for you. That if I had money—someday I could help you. That I’d find a way. But then Victoria told me she was pregnant with Lily. And Sarah told me she’d lost you. And it was like… the universe was telling me I’d made the right choice. So I buried it. I buried all of it. And I pretended to be the man everyone wanted me to be.”
He looked at his son.
“I’m not making excuses. What I did was wrong. Cowardly. Unforgivable. But I need you to know—I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you. I left because I was scared. And weak. And stupid.”
Ethan stared at him.
For the first time—
he didn’t see the rich asshole who’d destroyed his family.
He saw a kid.
Twenty-two.
Scared.
Faced with a choice no one should have to make.
It didn’t make it right.
It didn’t fix sixteen years.
But it made it human.
“Mom’s going to hate me when she finds out,” Ethan said quietly.
“Finds out what?”
“That I took the money. Not yours. Victoria’s. She gave me a hundred and fifty thousand. Paid for everything.”
Richard went still.
“Victoria?”
“Yeah. I called her. Told her about the Cayman accounts. About Miami. About the insurance policy.”
Richard closed his eyes.
“Of course you did.”
He didn’t sound angry.
Just tired.
“Does she know about—”
“Everything.”
Richard nodded.
“Good. She deserves to know. She deserves better than me. All of you do.”
He stood.
Walked to the door.
Paused.
“Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever happens with me and Victoria. Whatever happens with the company. You don’t have to worry. I made arrangements. Even if I lose everything—there’s a trust fund for you. And one for Lily. You’ll both be taken care of. No strings. No nothing. Just… what I should’ve done sixteen years ago.”
He left.
Ethan sat there.
His mom sleeping.
His father’s words hanging in the air.
And for the first time—
he didn’t know what to feel.
Hate?
Anger?
Pity?
May you like
Or something worse.
Something that felt almost like forgiveness.
