Chapter 5 - The Morning After
At seven o'clock on Christmas morning, the blizzard outside had cleared, leaving the grounds of the Mercer estate covered in a brilliant, blanket of white snow.
The main house was quiet.
In the grand dining room, Victoria Mercer sat alone at the head of the long mahogany table, wearing a dark wool suit, her leather travelling gloves laid neatly beside her fine porcelain coffee cup. Her luggage was stacked near the front doors in the foyer.
Footsteps echoed across the marble as Ethan descended the stairs. He wore a heavy charcoal sweater and dark trousers. His face was set in hard, unbreakable lines.
Victoria stood up, holding her leather handbag tight. “Ethan. I’m leaving for the penthouse in Manhattan. But before I go, we need to handle this situation rationally. You cannot simply allow a domestic worker to claim paternity without a formal, private DNA test conducted by our family physicians.”
Ethan walked over to the sideboard, poured himself a black coffee, and didn't look at her.
“The DNA test is already scheduled for ten o’clock this morning at New York Presbyterian, Victoria,” Ethan said flatly. “Not that I need it. She has my eyes, my jaw, and my family’s blood.”
“Even if she is yours,” Victoria argued, taking a sharp step forward, her political tone returning, “this must be handled with total discretion! If the press finds out that you have a four-year-old child born out of wedlock with an hourly maid, the market valuation of Mercer Urban Systems could drop five percent in Q1! We must draft a non-disclosure agreement and arrange for a private settlement—”
Ethan turned around slowly, setting his coffee cup down with a sharp clink.
“There will be no non-disclosure agreement,” Ethan said.
Victoria blinked. “What?”
“By noon today, my press team will issue an official statement,” Ethan announced, his voice reverberating through the high-ceilinged room. “I am publicly recognizing Avery as my daughter and sole heir to the Mercer estate. And I am naming Hannah Brooks as the Chief Creative Officer of our residential architectural division.”
Victoria looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Are you insane?! She’s a maid! She has no corporate standing! The board will revolt!”
“The board answers to me, Victoria. I own fifty-two percent of the voting shares,” Ethan replied coldly. “And as for you... your access cards to the corporate headquarters have been revoked. Your seat on the charitable foundation board has been terminated. You will receive your monthly trust allowance, and nothing more. You are no longer welcome in my house, or in my daughter’s life.”
Victoria’s face turned bright red with fury and disbelief. “You are casting your own mother aside for a girl from upstate New York?!”
“I am casting aside a parasite who destroyed my family for five years,” Ethan said, pointing toward the front door. “Your car is waiting, Victoria. Merry Christmas.”
Victoria stared at her son for a long, silent moment, realizing with absolute terror that she had lost all leverage over him. She snapped her leather handbag shut, turned on her heel, and walked out of the estate, her heels clicking angrily against the cold marble floor.
Ten minutes later, Hannah and Avery walked down the grand staircase. Avery was wearing a warm new coat that Ethan’s house manager had rushed in from an upscale children’s boutique that morning, her eyes wide with delight as she saw the massive six-meter Christmas tree in the main parlor.
“Look, Mommy! Look at the huge tree!” Avery squealed, running toward the sparkling lights.
Ethan walked over, dropping down on one knee beside the tree. He reached beneath the low pine branches and pulled out a large, heavy wooden box wrapped in plain brown paper, tied with a dark red ribbon.
“This one is for you, Avery,” Ethan said gently.
Avery rushed over, her small hands tearing away the paper with unbridled excitement.
Inside the wooden box was a set of hand-carved miniature wooden building blocks, complete with miniature windows, trees, and small wooden paint bottles.
Hannah walked over, leaning against the archway, tears welling in her eyes as she recognized the blocks. They were the very same architectural modeling tools Ethan used to carve when they were young draftsmen.
Avery pulled out a small, rectangular wooden piece that had been freshly painted bright, vibrant yellow.
“Look, Mommy!” Avery cheered, holding the tiny piece high into the sunlight. “It’s the yellow door!”
Ethan looked up at Hannah, standing up slowly from the floor.
“We’re building the real one now, Hannah,” Ethan said softly. “No more lies. No more shadows.”
Hannah walked over, stepping close to him, her hand slipping naturally into his broad palm.
May you like
“Merry Christmas, Ethan,” she whispered.
“Merry Christmas, Hannah,” he replied, pulling her and Avery tightly into his arms as the morning sun flooded the grand room with warm, golden light.
