Chapter 6
1543 Words
[Ethan]
The New York skyline stretched out before me, a glittering tapestry of lights against the pre-dawn sky. I hadn't slept a wink since the gala, my mind a whirlwind of emotions and half-formed plans. The scotch in my hand – my third of the night – did little to calm the storm raging inside me.
A son. I had a son.
The words still felt foreign on my tongue, a concept so monumental I could barely wrap my head around it. Oliver. My boy. The living, breathing proof of the love Ava and I had once shared.
And she'd kept him from me for five f*****g years.
The crystal tumbler shattered against the wall, sending shards of glass and amber liquid cascading to the floor. I barely registered the mess, my hands gripping the edge of my desk so tightly my knuckles turned white.
How could she do this to me? To us? To our child?
The rage that had been simmering since last night threatened to boil over. I'd given Ava everything – my heart, my name, my future. And she'd thrown it all away based on a misunderstanding. Worse, she'd denied me the chance to know my own flesh and blood.
A knock at the door interrupted my brooding. "Mr. Blackwood?" Zara's voice called out tentatively. "I saw your light on. Is everything alright?"
I cleared my throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Come in, Zara."
My COO entered, her usually impeccable appearance slightly rumpled. She'd clearly come straight from home, likely worried after the scene at the gala last night.
"Ethan," she said softly, dropping the formalities as she took in my disheveled state and the broken glass on the floor. "What happened?"
I laughed humorlessly, running a hand through my hair. "What happened? I'll tell you what happened. I found out I have a five-year-old son that Ava's been hiding from me since our divorce."
Zara's eyes widened, a flicker of guilt passing across her face. "Ethan, I—"
"Save it," I cut her off, my voice sharp. "I know you knew. I saw the way you looked at Oliver last night, the way you hovered around them. How long have you been keeping this secret for her?"
She straightened her spine, meeting my gaze unflinchingly. "Since the beginning. Ava needed someone in her corner, and I... I thought I was doing the right thing."
The betrayal stung, even though I understood her reasoning. Zara had always been loyal to a fault, and she and Ava had been close during our marriage.
"The right thing," I repeated, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Was it the right thing to deny a child his father? To rob me of five years I can never get back?"
Zara's expression softened. "Ethan, you have to understand. Ava was hurting, confused. She truly believed you had been unfaithful."
"And that justifies keeping my son from me?" I roared, slamming my fist on the desk. "Christ, Zara, I missed his first words, his first steps. I wasn't there for his first day of school or to kiss his scraped knees. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"
"No," she admitted quietly. "I don't. And I'm sorry for my part in it. But Ethan, what's done is done. The question is, what are you going to do now?"
I turned back to the window, watching as the first rays of sunlight began to peek over the horizon. What was I going to do? The answer came to me with a clarity that was almost frightening.
"I'm going to fight," I said, my voice low and determined. "I'm going to fight for my son, for my rights as his father. And if Ava won't see reason, if she tries to keep Oliver from me... then I'll take him away from her. Just like she took him from me."
Zara's sharp intake of breath was the only indication of her shock. "Ethan, you can't be serious. You're talking about a custody battle. Do you really want to put Oliver through that?"
I whirled around to face her, my eyes blazing. "And what about what Ava put him through? Growing up without a father, believing he'd been abandoned? No, Zara. I won't let her control this narrative any longer."
"But a custody battle?" Zara pressed, her brow furrowed with concern. "Ethan, think about this. You're talking about tearing a child away from the only parent he's ever known. Is that really what's best for Oliver?"
Her words gave me pause, a flicker of doubt creeping in. Was I letting my anger cloud my judgment? But then I remembered the look on Oliver's face when we'd talked at the gala, the instant connection I'd felt. He was my son, dammit. I had a right to be in his life.
"I don't want to hurt Oliver," I said finally, my voice softer. "But I can't just sit back and let Ava dictate the terms of my relationship with my son. She's had five years with him. Five years I can never get back. Don't I deserve a chance to be his father?"
Zara sighed, moving to stand beside me at the window. "Of course you do, Ethan. But there are other ways to go about this. Less... destructive ways."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. "What do you suggest?"
"Talk to Ava," she said simply. "Really talk to her. Listen to her side of things, explain yours. You two loved each other once. Surely you can find a way to co-parent without resorting to legal battles."
I scoffed, turning away. "You didn't see her last night, Zara. She's not interested in listening to reason. She's made up her mind about me."
"Then change her mind," Zara insisted. "Show her the man you've become, the father you want to be. Prove to her that you're not the person she thinks you are."
Her words stirred something in me, a memory of the way Ava had looked at me last night. For a brief moment, when I'd touched her cheek, I'd seen a flicker of the old Ava – the woman who had loved me unconditionally, who had believed in me when no one else did.
Could I reach that woman again? Could I make her see the truth?
"The brunch," I murmured, more to myself than to Zara. "It's a start, at least."
Zara nodded encouragingly. "Exactly. Use it as an opportunity to connect with Oliver, to show Ava that you're serious about being a father. And for God's sake, Ethan, don't antagonize her. Remember, you're on the same team here. You both want what's best for Oliver."
I let out a long breath, feeling some of the tension leave my body. "You're right. Of course you're right. I just... God, Zara, I have a son. A little boy who's half me, half Ava. How am I supposed to process that?"
She placed a comforting hand on my arm. "One day at a time, Ethan. That's all any parent can do."
I nodded, my mind already racing with plans for the brunch. I'd have the chef prepare all of Oliver's favorite foods – assuming Ava would tell me what they were. Maybe I could arrange for some games or activities, something to help break the ice.
"I should get home," I said, glancing at my watch. "Try to get a few hours of sleep before the brunch. And... clean myself up a bit."
Zara smiled, a hint of her usual sass returning. "Might be a good idea. You look like you've been on a three-day bender."
I chuckled, the sound rusty but genuine. "Thanks for coming in, Zara. And for... you know. Everything."
She nodded, her expression serious. "Just promise me you'll think about what I said, Ethan. Don't let anger guide your actions. Not when it comes to your son."
"I promise," I said solemnly. "I'll do whatever it takes to be the father Oliver deserves. And if that means playing nice with Ava... well, I'll do my best."
As Zara left, I turned back to the window, watching as the city came to life in the early morning light. In a few hours, I'd be face to face with Ava and Oliver again. My family. The thought sent a jolt of anticipation through me, equal parts excitement and terror.
I had no illusions that it would be easy. Ava and I had a lot of baggage to work through, years of hurt and misunderstandings to overcome. But for Oliver's sake – and maybe, just maybe, for the sake of what Ava and I once had – I was willing to try.
"Game on, Ava," I murmured, a hint of a smile playing at my lips. "Let's see if we can't rewrite this story after all."
With newfound determination, I headed out of the office, ready to face whatever the day might bring. One thing was certain – nothing would ever be the same again. And deep down, despite the anger and hurt still simmering beneath the surface, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope.
Maybe, just maybe, this was our second chance at the happily ever after we'd once dreamed of.
- Writer
