CHAPTER 5: MONDAY MORNING
763 Words
Ava arrived at Blackwood Industries at seven-thirty Monday morning, thirty minutes before expected. The building was a glass and steel monument to power, sixty stories of corporate dominance in the heart of the financial district.
She'd dressed carefully. Navy pencil skirt, white silk blouse, minimal jewelry. Professional armor. Her hair was pulled into a sleek bun, her makeup flawless but understated.
Her hands were shaking.
She'd left Noah stable in Geneva with Nina and a team of doctors monitoring him. Every minute away from him felt like glass in her chest, but she had no choice. She needed to get close to Ethan, earn his trust, and find the right moment to ask for his help.
Four months. The clock was ticking.
The elevator opened on the sixtieth floor directly into the executive suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city. Modern art hung on white walls. Everything was clean, expensive, and cold.
A woman in her fifties with steel-gray hair looked up from reception.
"You must be Miss Monroe. I'm Patricia, executive floor manager." Her smile was professional but warm. "Mr. Blackwood asked that you come directly to his office."
Ava followed Patricia down a hallway to massive double doors. Patricia knocked once and opened them.
Ethan sat behind an enormous desk, suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled to his elbows, reading something on his computer. He looked up when they entered.
His eyes locked on Ava immediately. Something flickered in his expression. Something that looked like relief.
"Miss Monroe is here, sir," Patricia announced.
"Thank you, Patricia. Close the door."
The older woman left. Suddenly Ava was alone with Ethan. The door clicked shut with finality.
Silence stretched between them.
Ethan stood slowly and came around the desk. He stopped three feet away, studying her face.
"Your cheek," he said quietly. "The mark is gone."
She'd covered it with makeup. "It was nothing."
"Who hit you at the gala?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me." His voice dropped dangerously. "Tell me."
"I handled it. Can we discuss my job responsibilities?"
Ethan stared at her for another moment, then moved back to his desk and picked up a file folder.
"You'll manage my schedule, handle confidential correspondence, coordinate with department heads, and accompany me to meetings." He handed her the folder. "Your desk is directly outside this office."
Ava took the folder. Their fingers brushed. Electricity shot up her arm.
Ethan felt it too. She saw his jaw tighten.
"I require complete discretion. Everything you see and hear is confidential. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Good." He returned to his desk, clearly dismissing her.
Ava turned to leave.
"One more thing."
She looked back.
"Noah. The child you're concerned about. How is he?"
Her heart stopped. "Why do you ask?"
"You left the gala urgently because of his fever. I'm asking if he's alright."
"He's stable. Thank you for asking."
"Is he yours?"
The question hung in the air like a bomb.
Ava could lie. Should lie. But something in Ethan's eyes made her hesitate. He looked like a man bracing for impact.
"That's personal," she said carefully.
"Is. He. Yours."
"Why does it matter?"
"Because I need to know if my employee has a child at home. It affects scheduling and availability."
It was a reasonable explanation. Too reasonable.
"I have commitments outside of work that may require flexibility," Ava said. "But they won't interfere with my performance."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer you're getting today, Mr. Blackwood."
She left before he could push further.
In his office, Ethan sat back and pulled up the report his investigator had sent at six this morning.
Still no birth certificate for Noah Monroe. No adoption records. No custody filings.
But hospital records showed a child matching that name, age four, with a rare genetic blood disorder. The same disorder Ethan carried the gene for. The same one that killed his father.
Preliminary DNA probability based on the medical condition suggested ninety percent chance the child was biologically related to the Blackwood family line.
Ethan stared at the closed door Ava had just walked through.
She'd avoided his question about Noah being hers.
She'd looked terrified when he asked.
And she'd flown to Geneva the same night of the gala.
He opened his phone and texted his investigator: Whatever it takes. I need that birth certificate by end of business today.
If Ava had his child and kept it secret for five years, there had to be a reason.
He was going to find out what.
And God help anyone who had forced her to run.
- Writer
