Chapter 4 - The Truth on the Glass
The master suite on the top floor of the Mercer estate was a fortress of glass, steel, and plush white linen.
When Ethan unlocked the heavy door, he found Hannah sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed. Avery was fast asleep in the center of the mattress, her small face peaceful, her dark curls spread across the silk pillowcase.
Hannah stood up instantly as Ethan walked in, her hands clutched tightly in front of her.
“Is she gone?” Hannah whispered.
“She’s downstairs,” Ethan said softly, closing the door behind him. He walked over to the bed, looking down at the sleeping child for a long, silent moment. Now that he knew—now that the truth was laid bare in his mind—every feature of Avery’s face seemed like an exact miniature replica of his own childhood photographs.
“She’s mine, isn't she, Hannah?” Ethan asked. His voice wasn't demanding; it was filled with a tender, fragile awe.
Hannah bowed her head, tears finally overflowing her eyes and dripping onto her linen shirt.
“I didn't know I was pregnant when I left New York,” Hannah wept quietly, holding her face in her hands. “I found out six weeks later in a small apartment in Buffalo. I had no job, no reference letters, and two hundred thousand dollars in a bank account that felt like dirty blood money.”
Ethan took a step toward her, his chest aching with a profound, unbearable guilt. “Why didn't you try to reach me when she was born?”
“I tried, Ethan!” Hannah looked up at him, her eyes raw with grief. “When I was six months pregnant, I drove back to New York. I stood across the street from your new corporate headquarters in Manhattan. I saw you walking out of the building. You were wearing a three-thousand-dollar suit, surrounded by bodyguards, and your mother was right beside you, smiling for news cameras. You looked like a king... and I was a broken girl with a belly and paint on my shoes.”
She wiped her eyes frantically with the back of her sleeve.
“I remembered what your mother’s lawyers told me,” Hannah continued, her voice trembling. “They said if I ever tried to lock you into a child support battle, the Mercer legal team would declare me an unfit mother and take the baby away from me the moment she was born. I was terrified, Ethan. I couldn't risk losing her. So I took the check, moved to a small town, and raised her alone.”
Ethan felt a tear slip down his own cheek. He didn't care about the corporate image. He didn't care about the board, the wealth, or his mother’s pride.
He dropped to his knees right in front of Hannah, taking both of her cold, trembling hands in his.
“I am so sorry, Hannah,” Ethan choked out, his head resting against her hands. “I am so, so sorry that my family did this to you. I spent five years hating you for walking away... while you were carrying my child alone in the dark.”
Hannah looked down at the top of his dark head, feeling the warmth of his tears against her fingers. For five years, she had carried the crushing weight of believing she was unloved, abandoned, and bought off like garbage.
Slowly, hesitatingly, she uncurled her fingers and touched his dark hair, just as she used to five years ago in their cramped little studio apartment.
“You really didn't know?” she whispered again, needing to hear it one last time.
Ethan looked up into her green-flecked hazel eyes. “On my life, Hannah. I didn't know. But I know now... and nobody is ever going to hurt either of you again.”
A soft mumble came from the bed behind them.
Avery rubbed her eyes with her tiny fist, sitting up among the massive white pillows. She looked around the giant, sun-drenched master bedroom, then spotted Ethan kneeling on the floor beside her mother.
“Mommy?” Avery murmured, her voice thick with sleep. “Why is the house man crying?”
Hannah gave a soft, tearful laugh, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling Avery into her lap.
Ethan stood up wiping his eyes, a gentle, genuine smile breaking across his face as he sat down beside them on the mattress.
“I’m not crying because I’m sad, Avery,” Ethan said softly, reaching out to gently touch the child’s small, warm cheek. “I’m crying because I finally found something I lost a long time ago.”
Avery looked from Ethan’s face to her mother’s, then pulled the faded photograph out of her sweater pocket. She held it up to Ethan’s face, looking at his eyes, then looking at the photograph, then back at his face again.
Her small eyes widened in sudden realization.
“The dark blue sweater,” Avery whispered, pointing her tiny finger at the folded shoulder in the picture. “You’re the man who drew houses with Mommy!”
Ethan swallowed the hard lump in his throat and nodded. “Yes, Avery. I drew houses with your mommy.”
“Did you draw the yellow door too?” she asked, her hazel eyes bright with wonder.
May you like
Ethan looked at Hannah, whose eyes were shining with hope for the first time in five years.
“We haven't built the yellow door yet, Avery,” Ethan said quietly, wrapping his large hand over both of theirs. “But we’re going to start building it today.”
