Chapter 2 - The Summer of Drew
The storm was hammering the leaded glass windows of Adrian's private study, but inside, the only sound was the heavy ticking of the brass clock on the mantle.
Adrian stood behind his massive oak desk, staring at a small, gray pebble sitting beside his leather-bound ledger. It was the "captain" stone Nora had given him on the garden steps three weeks ago. He picked it up, feeling its rough, cool surface against his thumb.
Five years ago, Adrian had been twenty-five, drowning in the corporate schemes of his late father and uncle. Desperate for a summer of freedom before being forced into the executive suite of Mercer Maritime Systems, he had taken a leave of absence, bought an old pickup truck, and driven north to a small coastal town in Maine. He worked as a carpenter under his middle name, Drew.
That was where he met Leah Bennett. She had been working at a local boat repair shop, her hands skilled with varnish and sandpaper, her spirit fierce and independent. They had spent three months in a small cottage near a half-built pier, eating fish tacos on the rocks and planning a life that didn't involve boardrooms, stock portfolios, or family legacies.
Then, overnight, she was gone.
He had returned to the cottage one evening to find her clothes missing, her phone disconnected, and a blank envelope on the kitchen table containing nothing but the small silver ring he had bought her at a local market.
For five years, Adrian had believed she had traded him for something else, or simply panicked and fled. The pain had hardened him, transforming him into the ruthless, distant CEO his family demanded.
A soft knock at the study door shattered his memory.
"Come in," Adrian said.
The door opened, and Leah stepped inside. She had removed her apron, leaving her in a simple dark sweater and trousers. She looked exhausted, her posture guarded as she closed the heavy door behind her and remained near the threshold.
"Is Nora asleep?" Adrian asked, his voice low.
"Yes," Leah said quietly. "She was tired."
Adrian walked around his desk, stopping a few feet from her. Up close, he could see the faint lines of stress around her eyes—lines that had not been there when she was twenty-one.
"Five years, Leah," he said, the words cutting through the air between them. "Five years, and you came to work in my house as a stranger."
Leah met his gaze, her jaw setting into that stubborn line he remembered so vividly. "I didn't come here for you, Adrian. I didn't even know 'Drew' was Adrian Mercer until I saw your face in the local paper two months ago."
"Then why stay?" he demanded, taking a step closer. "Why bring her here, under my roof, and pretend you didn't know me?"
"Because I was broke!" Leah snapped, her voice breaking into a fierce whisper. "Because I had eighty-three dollars in my bank account, a five-year-old daughter who needed a safe room, and a job offer that gave us a roof over our heads! I told myself you wouldn't notice us. I told myself Adrian Mercer was a different man than the one I knew in Maine."
"And the mark on her wrist?" Adrian's voice cracked. "Did you think I wouldn't see it? Did you think I wouldn't count the months?"
Leah swallowed hard, turning her face toward the dark window. "I hoped you wouldn't look closely enough. You spend your life looking at figures and contracts, Adrian. I thought a housekeeper's daughter would be invisible to you."
Adrian reached out, his hand hesitating in the air before he gently took her wrist, lifting her hand between them. "Why did you leave me in Maine, Leah? Why did you walk away without a word?"
Leah pulled her hand back violently, her eyes wide with sudden, bitter disbelief. "Walk away? I walked away?" She let out a harsh, breathless laugh. "Is that what you tell yourself?"
"You left a blank envelope with the ring!" Adrian shouted, his controlled facade shattering. "I searched for you for three months! I drove up and down the coast until my uncle’s lawyers dragged me back to Portland!"
Leah stared at him, her chest heaving, her expression shifting from anger to profound confusion.
"Adrian," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Your uncle came to the cottage himself. He brought two security guards and a stack of signed documents. He told me you were engaged to a senator's daughter in Boston, that 'Drew' was a game you played every summer, and that if I didn't leave Maine immediately, my father's small boat yard would be foreclosed on by Mercer Maritime within forty-eight hours."
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Adrian felt the room spin beneath his feet. "My uncle Richard... is dead. He died three years ago."
"I know," Leah said, tears finally overflowing her lashes. "And he left me a letter through a lawyer three weeks after I fled to Vermont. The letter said that if I ever tried to contact you, or if I ever told you about the pregnancy, he would ensure I lost custody of Nora permanently."
