Chapter 3 - The Shadow of the Past
Three days passed in a blur of surreal luxury for Sophie Miller.
She was moved into a massive, hotel-like private suite on the top floor of the hospital's private wing. Her room featured floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the misty Seattle skyline, plush velvet couches, private nurses, and gourmet meals delivered three times a day.
Amy spent her days sitting on the comfortable leather sofa, coloring in brand-new books that Ethan’s staff delivered every morning, eating fresh berries and hot meals.
On the third evening, as the rain drummed softly against the glass, the heavy suite door opened.
Ethan stepped inside, carrying a small, ribbon-tied box in his hands.
Sophie sat up in bed, her complexion vastly improved, her dark brown hair brushed and falling softly over her shoulders. She looked up at him, a warm, timid blush spreading across her cheeks.
“Mr. Cole,” Sophie said softly. “You didn't have to come back tonight.”
“Ethan,” he corrected her, walking over to stand beside her bed, setting the box on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?”
“The doctors said I can be discharged tomorrow,” Sophie replied, looking down at her hands. “They said... they said the bill has already been paid in full. Ethan, I don't know how I can ever repay you. I don't have any money—”
“I don't want your money, Sophie,” Ethan said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
His proximity was overwhelming. The rich scent of dark cedar, crisp rain, and expensive tobacco followed him everywhere, filling the room and pushing away the cold hospital odors.
“Then what do you want?” Sophie asked, her voice dropping into a breathless whisper, her hazel eyes locking onto his. “Why would a man like you care about a nighttime custodian?”
Ethan was quiet for a long moment. He reached out, his long fingers gently picking up a small white paper tag resting on her bedside table. It was her old work ID badge.
“When I was seven years old,” Ethan began, his voice surprisingly soft, dark with ancient memories, “my mother worked three cleaning jobs in downtown Chicago. She got sick... just like you. She was terrified of missing a shift because her boss was a ruthless loan shark named Vane.”
Sophie held her breath, listening intently.
“One night, she collapsed in an alley,” Ethan continued, his jaw tightening into iron. “I tried to clean her building for her so she wouldn't lose her pay. But Vane didn't care. He threw us out onto the street in the middle of winter. My mother died three weeks later from pneumonia.”
A tear slipped down Sophie’s cheek. She reached out without thinking, her small, warm fingers resting gently over Ethan’s hand.
“Ethan... I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Ethan looked down at her small hand resting against his. He didn't pull away. Instead, he turned his hand over, intertwining his long fingers with hers, holding her tightly.
“When Amy walked into my office three days ago with that rag,” Ethan murmured, looking straight into her eyes, “I swore on my brother's grave that I would never let another child suffer the way I did. And I swore I would protect the woman who raised a child that brave.”
Before Sophie could speak, the peaceful atmosphere of the room was shattered.
BANG.
The heavy double doors of the private wing were thrown open in the outer hallway. Loud shouting, crashing trays, and the sudden, terrifying sound of silenced gunfire echoed through the corridor.
Ethan stood up instantly, pulling a black semi-automatic pistol from his shoulder holster with blinding speed, stepping in front of Sophie’s bed.
Amy let out a terrified shriek from the sofa, scrambling under the bed sheets.
The inner suite door burst open.
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Marcus, Ethan’s chief of security, staggered into the room, blood pouring from a heavy wound on his forehead.
“Boss!” Marcus yelled desperately. “It’s the Moretti family! Sal Moretti found out you were keeping the girl and the kid here! They’ve breached the main lobby—they're coming up the elevator right now!”
