The restaurant fell into a hush as Ethan stared at the man who had haunted his nightmares. His father. The same man who had walked out on him and his mother like they were disposable—now standing inches away, looking older but no less smug.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Ethan growled, his voice low, dangerous.
His father shrugged, that same arrogant smirk tugging at his lips. “Grabbing lunch. Didn’t know this place turned into a daycare for knocked-up girls and washed-up soldiers.”
The words landed like a slap. Camilla flinched beside him, but Ethan’s vision narrowed, red edging the corners.
“Don’t,” Ethan warned, stepping forward. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
His father c****d his head, completely unfazed. “Touchy. Guess the military didn’t teach you to control your temper
