Episode 3
1621 Words
[Ava]
The champagne flute trembled slightly in my hand as I surveyed the glittering ballroom. Five years had passed since I'd last set foot in a Blackwood hotel, and the opulence still took my breath away. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the sea of designer gowns and tuxedos, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and even more expensive ambition.
I smoothed down the front of my emerald green dress, a color I'd chosen specifically because I knew it brought out my eyes. Not that I was trying to impress anyone. Especially not him.
"Mommy, can I have another cookie?" Oliver's small voice piped up beside me, his hand tugging gently on my skirt.
I looked down at my son, my heart swelling with love. At five years old, he was the spitting image of his father – all dark curls and mischievous brown eyes. But his gentle spirit was all mine.
"Just one more, sweetheart," I said, reaching for a chocolate chip cookie from a passing waiter's tray. "We don't want to spoil your dinner."
As Oliver happily munched on his treat, I scanned the room once more. I'd known there was a chance Ethan would be here – it was his hotel, after all – but I'd hoped to avoid a direct encounter. The last thing I needed was for him to see Oliver and put two and two together.
"Mrs. Sinclair?" A young woman in a crisp suit approached, tablet in hand. "We're ready for you to present the check whenever you're ready."
I nodded, forcing a smile. "Of course. Just give me a moment to get Oliver settled."
As the woman walked away, I knelt down to Oliver's level, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "Mommy has to go up on stage for a little bit, okay? Can you be a good boy and stay with Miss Chen?"
Oliver nodded solemnly, his big brown eyes wide with understanding. "I'll be good, Mommy. Promise."
I pressed a kiss to his forehead, then waved over Zara Chen, Ethan's long-time COO and the only person from my old life I still kept in touch with. She'd been a godsend these past five years, helping me navigate single motherhood and keeping my secret safe from Ethan.
"Thanks for watching him," I murmured as Zara approached. "I shouldn't be more than a few minutes."
Zara squeezed my arm reassuringly. "Take your time. Oliver and I will be just fine, won't we, little man?"
As I made my way to the stage, I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I resisted the urge to turn around. I knew that gaze, could feel the weight of it even after all these years.
Ethan was here.
Taking a deep breath, I plastered on my most professional smile as I ascended the steps to the podium. The room fell quiet as I tapped the microphone, all eyes turning to me.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," I began, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. "On behalf of the Sinclair Foundation, I'd like to thank you all for your generous donations tonight. Together, we've raised over two million dollars for children's education initiatives across the city."
As I continued my speech, my eyes scanned the crowd, unable to help searching for that familiar face. And then I saw him.
Ethan stood at the back of the room, his tall frame unmistakable even from a distance. He was devastatingly handsome in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, his dark hair slightly longer than I remembered. But it was the intensity of his gaze that made my breath catch in my throat.
For a moment, the rest of the room faded away, and I was transported back to our first meeting. The way he'd looked at me then, like I was the only woman in the world, had made my knees weak. Now, that same gaze sent a shiver of something entirely different down my spine.
Anger. Resentment. And underneath it all, a traitorous flicker of desire that I thought I'd long since extinguished.
I forced myself to look away, focusing on finishing my speech. As I stepped down from the podium to polite applause, I made a beeline for where I'd left Oliver with Zara. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
"Ava."
His voice, deep and rich as aged whiskey, stopped me in my tracks. I turned slowly, steeling myself for the confrontation I'd been dreading for five years.
Ethan stood before me, somehow even more imposing up close. His dark eyes raked over me, taking in every detail of my appearance. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and I hated it.
"Ethan," I replied, proud of how steady my voice sounded. "I didn't expect to see you here."
A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "At my own hotel? I should think not."
The familiar sarcasm sparked a flame of irritation in my chest. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to—"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
The question, asked so quietly I almost missed it, made my blood run cold. I blinked, feigning confusion. "Tell you what?"
Ethan's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Don't play dumb, Ava. It doesn't suit you." His eyes flickered to where Oliver stood with Zara, then back to me. "Why didn't you tell me I had a son?"
The bottom dropped out of my stomach. This couldn't be happening. Not here, not now. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me.
Ethan took a step closer, invading my personal space in a way that made my pulse race. "He has my eyes, Ava. My hair. Hell, he even has my dimples when he smiles. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came out. What could I possibly say to justify keeping Oliver a secret for five years?
"Mommy!" Oliver's voice cut through the tension like a knife. He came bounding up to us, oblivious to the charged atmosphere. "Miss Chen said I could have another cookie. Can I?"
I forced a smile, reaching down to ruffle his hair. "Not right now, sweetheart. We need to be heading home soon."
Oliver's face fell, but then his eyes landed on Ethan. He tilted his head, curiosity shining in those familiar brown eyes. "Who are you?"
Ethan crouched down to Oliver's level, his expression softening in a way that made my heart ache. "I'm an old friend of your mom's," he said, his voice gentle. "My name is Ethan. It's nice to meet you..."
He trailed off, looking up at me expectantly. I swallowed hard, knowing there was no way out of this.
"Oliver," I supplied, my voice barely above a whisper. "His name is Oliver."
Something flashed in Ethan's eyes – pain, anger, longing? – before he turned back to our son with a warm smile. "It's nice to meet you, Oliver. That's a very handsome bow tie you're wearing."
Oliver beamed, puffing out his chest proudly. "Thank you! Mommy helped me tie it. She says it makes me look like a little gentleman."
Ethan chuckled, the sound sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine. "Your mom is absolutely right. You look very dapper."
As I watched Ethan interact with Oliver, a mix of emotions churned in my stomach. Guilt for keeping them apart. Fear of what this revelation would mean for our carefully constructed lives. And underneath it all, a traitorous warmth at seeing father and son together for the first time.
But I couldn't let myself get swept away by sentiment. I'd made my choice five years ago, and I had to stick to it. For Oliver's sake.
"We really should be going," I said, reaching for Oliver's hand. "It's past someone's bedtime."
Ethan stood, his eyes never leaving mine. "This conversation isn't over, Ava," he said quietly, his tone brooking no argument.
I lifted my chin defiantly. "I think it is. Goodnight, Ethan."
As I turned to leave, Oliver's voice piped up again. "Can we come back tomorrow, Mommy? I want to talk to Mr. Ethan some more. He's nice."
I froze, caught between my son's innocent request and the minefield of complications it would bring. Before I could formulate a response, Ethan spoke up.
"I'd love that, Oliver," he said, his eyes locked on mine. "In fact, why don't you and your mom join me for brunch tomorrow? We have a lot of catching up to do."
The invitation hung in the air between us, loaded with unspoken tensions and years of unresolved feelings. I knew I should refuse, should grab Oliver and run as far away from Ethan Blackwood as I could.
But as I looked down at my son's hopeful face, then back up at Ethan's determined expression, I realized that running wasn't an option anymore. The past had finally caught up with us, and it was time to face the consequences.
"Fine," I said, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "We'll be here at eleven."
Ethan's answering smile was all predator, sending a shiver of anticipation – or was it fear? – down my spine. "Perfect. I'm looking forward to it."
As we walked away, Oliver's small hand in mine, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just made a terrible mistake. But there was no going back now. Tomorrow would bring a reckoning five years in the making, and I could only hope I was strong enough to weather the storm.
Little did I know, the real tempest was just beginning.
- Writer
