Chapter 6 - The Billionaire Who Chose Love Over His Empire
Ethan wanted to go alone.
I refused.
The police refused.
Claire threatened to handcuff him to a chair.
He ignored all of us.
“I can end this.”
“No,” I said.
He looked at me.
“I have spent three years trying to solve this alone.”
“And look how well that went.”
He almost smiled.
Then his expression softened.
“You shouldn't have to be involved.”
“I already am.”
He looked at my stomach.
“Our child is involved.”
The words hit differently.
Our child.
Not my pregnancy.
Not the baby.
Our child.
He had never used those words before.
That night, Ethan met Andrew in an abandoned warehouse in Queens.
Except he wasn't alone.
Police surrounded the building.
Claire had prepared hidden surveillance.
I waited in a vehicle.
I hated every second.
Then gunfire erupted.
Officers rushed inside.
Ethan emerged holding Andrew against the wall.
Andrew was bleeding.
“Where is Victor?” Ethan demanded.
Andrew laughed.
“You still don't understand.”
“Tell me.”
“Victor never wanted your company.”
“Then what?”
“Your trust.”
Ethan froze.
Andrew looked at me.
“He wanted Emma.”
I stepped out of the vehicle.
Ethan immediately shouted:
“Get back!”
Too late.
Andrew smiled.
“You shouldn't have come.”
A second figure appeared behind me.
A gun pressed against my back.
I froze.
Ethan's face changed.
The man holding me whispered:
“Walk.”
I couldn't breathe.
The warehouse erupted in chaos.
I felt myself being dragged backward.
Then Ethan shouted:
“Emma!”
I turned.
He was running toward me.
The man fired.
Ethan pushed me down.
The bullet struck his shoulder.
He collapsed.
Everything became noise.
Police.
Shouting.
Footsteps.
Sirens.
I crawled toward Ethan.
Blood spread across his shirt.
“No.”
His eyes opened.
“Are you okay?”
I stared at him.
“You got shot.”
“I asked if you're okay.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Then he smiled.
And passed out.
At the hospital, the surgeon said he would survive.
I sat beside him for six hours.
When he finally opened his eyes, I was there.
“You're still here.”
I held his hand.
“Apparently.”
“Your lawyers are going to hate this.”
“They already do.”
He smiled weakly.
Then became serious.
“I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“The night of your birthday wasn't the first time I tried to protect you.”
He explained that three years earlier, his father had given him evidence proving Rebecca Blackwood was alive.
Ethan spent years searching.
The woman he appeared to be seeing had actually been Claire Donovan, who was helping him trace Rebecca's location.
The business trips were investigations.
The perfume was from Rebecca's apartment.
The birthday had been the night Ethan was supposed to bring Rebecca home.
But the meeting went wrong.
Rebecca disappeared again.
Ethan returned late.
He had forgotten Emma's birthday completely.
That part, he admitted, had nothing to do with the conspiracy.
“I was obsessed with solving everything,” he whispered. “And I destroyed the person I loved while trying to save her.”
I looked at him.
“That is the first honest thing you've said.”
“I know.”
He squeezed my hand.
“I can't ask you to forgive me.”
“I know.”
“But I want the chance to earn it.”
I stared at him.
Then the door opened.
A nurse entered.
“Mr. Blackwood?”
“Yes?”
“We have a visitor.”
“Who?”
A woman stepped through the door.
She was older than Ethan.
Dark hair.
Tired eyes.
And a familiar face.
I knew her immediately.
She looked at me.
“Emma.”
My heart stopped.
Ethan whispered:
May you like
“Mom.”
Rebecca Blackwood was alive.
