The Man From Her Past
Mary John had learned that the past has a way of catching up with people who spend years running from it. She just never expected hers to walk into the ballroom in a black tuxedo.
The moment she saw Thompson, the glass in her hand stopped halfway to her lips. Five years. It had been five years since she'd last seen him, since she'd walked away from the man who used to be her whole world. And somehow one glance was enough to make her heart remember everything her mind had spent five years trying to forget.
Thompson stood under the huge crystal chandelier at the far end of the room, surrounded by investors and executives. Tall, broad-shouldered, still impossibly handsome. His black hair was neatly styled, his jaw sharper than she remembered, and his dark eyes still had that same intensity that used to make her feel like the only woman alive.
Mary looked away. No. She wasn't that woman anymore. She wasn't the twenty-two-year-old who'd believed love could survive anything. She was a mother now, a businesswoman, someone who had gotten through heartbreak and built a life without him.
"Mommy?"
A small hand tugged at her dress. She looked down at her five-year-old son, his brown eyes curious.
"Why are you looking at that man?"
Her heart stumbled. "Which man?"
He pointed across the ballroom. "That one."
"Don't point, sweetheart." He lowered his hand, though his eyes stayed on Thompson.
Mary crouched beside him and straightened his little black bow tie. "We're here for work, remember?"
"Yes, Mommy."
"And after dinner we go home."
"Can I have cake?"
She smiled despite herself. "If you behave."
"I always behave."
"That's not what your teacher told me." She laughed softly, and his mouth curved into a mischievous grin.
For one moment she forgot about Thompson entirely.
Then she felt it, someone watching her. She looked up and found Thompson staring straight at them. Not at her. At her son. The confident billionaire who'd been chatting with executives a second ago now stood completely still.
Mary's blood ran cold. She stood and took her son's hand. "We're leaving."
"But Mommy, the cake."
"Later."
She turned for the exit and had nearly made it to the doors when a deep voice stopped her.
"Mary."
Her feet froze. Daniel looked up at her. She closed her eyes for a second, then turned around.
Thompson stood a few feet away, his eyes locked on hers.
"Hello, Thompson." Her voice came out steadier than she felt.
He looked at her like he couldn't quite believe she was real. "You came back."
"I never left the city," she said, with a faint smile.
"Five years."
She said nothing.
"Five years, Mary." His voice dropped lower.
She tightened her grip on her son's hand. "I think we've both changed."
Thompson's eyes dropped to the boy again. Mary's stomach twisted.
"Who is he?" The question came out soft. Too soft.
Her fingers tightened. "My son."
"Your son?"
"Yes."
"What's his name?"
She hesitated. "Daniel."
Thompson looked at the boy again, something unreadable crossing his face. "How old is he?"
Mary knew exactly where this was going. "Five."
Silence. The ballroom suddenly felt too quiet. Thompson stared at Daniel. Five years old. Dark hair. Sharp little eyes. The same faint dimple that showed up when he smiled. Mary watched the realization land on Thompson's face and stepped back.
"We need to go."
"Mary."
"Goodnight."
She turned to leave, and this time Thompson caught her wrist. She pulled away immediately.
"Don't touch me."
The hurt in his eyes surprised her. She refused to let it matter.
"You disappeared," he said.
"You know why."
"No, I don't."
She stared at him. "You made that very clear five years ago."
His brows drew together. "What are you talking about?"
A bitter laugh escaped her. "Don't do this."
"Do what?"
"Act like you don't remember."
"I remember everything."
"Then you remember why I left."
"I remember waking up one morning and finding you gone."
Her heart clenched. "You were with another woman."
Thompson's face went blank. "What?"
She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Mary, I never-"
"Mary." A new voice cut in.
She turned to find Alexander Ben a few feet away, in a dark navy suit, his expression calm even as his eyes went straight to Thompson. The tension between the two men was obvious. Alexander walked over.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Mary said, nodding.
Alexander glanced at Thompson, then at Daniel. "Ready to go home?"
Daniel smiled. "Yes, Uncle Alexander."
Thompson's expression hardened. "Uncle?"
Mary stepped quickly between them. "Alexander's been a friend of the family for years."
Thompson's eyes narrowed. "The family?" The words came out dangerously quiet.
Mary knew instantly she'd made a mistake. Alexander's gaze cut to her; he understood it too. Thompson looked at Daniel again, then at Mary, his whole expression shifting.
"You said he's five."
Mary said nothing.
"Mary."
She only held Daniel's hand tighter. "Goodnight, Thompson." She walked off with Alexander and her son.
Before she reached the doors, Thompson's voice caught up to her.
"He's mine, isn't he?"
Mary stopped. Her heart was pounding. She didn't turn around.
For five years she had guarded one secret. Tonight it had finally found its father. Judging by the silence behind her, Thompson Wat had just understood that the woman he thought had abandoned him had taken something far more precious with her: his son.
Mary walked out of the ballroom without answering. Behind her, Thompson stood frozen, his mind already racing. Five years ago Mary had disappeared. Five years ago he had lost the woman he loved. And now she was back, with a child who looked exactly like him.
For the first time in five years, Thompson knew one thing for certain. He was going to find out the truth, no matter who tried to stop him.
