Chapter 2 - The Patriarch's ShadowThe silence that fell over the restaurant was absolute. You could have heard a pin drop on the thick Persian rug.
Richard Blackwood ignored his son completely at first. He bent down with a groan of stiff joints, catching Noah in his arms and lifting the little boy up with surprising strength.
“Hello, my boy,” Richard said, his deep voice carrying across the silent room. He kissed the top of Noah’s curly brown hair before looking up at Ethan and Victoria.
Ethan looked as though he had just been struck by lightning. The blood had entirely drained from his face, leaving him looking shockingly pale beneath his tan.
“Dad?” Ethan’s voice cracked slightly, the formidable corporate titan reduced to a confused, defensive son in a matter of seconds. “What is going on here? Why are you holding... why are you with them?”
Richard straightened up, holding Noah securely against his shoulder. He walked slowly toward our table, his cane tapping rhythmically against the floor. His sharp, calculating gaze swept over Victoria’s white designer dress before landing squarely on his son.
“Lower your voice, Ethan,” Richard commanded, his tone carrying the iron authority that had built the Blackwood empire. “You are making a public spectacle of yourself in a restaurant I own, shouting at a mother and a child.”
Victoria stepped forward, her smile returning, though it was strained at the edges. “Mr. Blackwood, surely you don't understand. This woman... she’s an opportunist. She disappeared seven years ago with a payoff, and now she’s using a child to target Ethan’s fortune.”
If looks could kill, Richard’s glare would have turned Victoria to ash on the spot.
“Be quiet, Victoria,” Richard snapped, his voice cold enough to freeze water. “When I want your opinion on family matters, I will ask for it. Until then, remember your place.”
Victoria’s face flushed bright red with humiliation, her eyes flashing with sudden, venomous hatred toward me, though she quickly masked it behind a hurt expression, looking up at Ethan for defense.
Ethan bristled, stepping protectively in front of his fiancée. “Dad, don't talk to her like that. And answer my question. What is this child to you? Why did you reserve this table for them?”
Richard sighed, a heavy, weary sound that seemed to age him ten years. He looked at Noah, who was quietly sucking on his thumb, watching the adults with wide, apprehensive eyes.
“Put him down, Richard? No, let’s talk about this right now,” Ethan demanded, stepping closer, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. “Seven years ago, she ruined my life. She walked out without a word, leaving me standing in an empty apartment. And now you’re entertaining her? Have you lost your mind?”
“No, Ethan,” Richard said quietly, his eyes hardening. “It is you who lost your mind seven years ago. Or rather, someone carefully arranged it so you would lose sight of the truth.”
Ethan frowned, shaking his head. “What are you talking about? I saw the bank statements. I saw the legal documents signed with her name releasing all claims. I saw the note!”
My heart skipped a beat. A note?
“Ethan,” I choked out, finding my voice for the first time. “I never left a note. I never signed any legal release. I didn't take any money.”
“Don't lie!” Ethan yelled, pointing an accusing finger at me. “My lawyers handled it! The payoff was wired directly to an account registered in your name three days after you vanished!”
“Enough!” Richard’s voice boomed, silencing the entire room once more. He handed Noah gently down to me. “Clara, take the boy outside into the foyer for a moment. Wait by the fountain. I need to speak with my son alone.”
I hesitated, looking at Ethan’s stormy expression, but nodded. I grabbed Noah’s hand, and we walked away from the table, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.
Through the archway, I watched as Richard turned to face his son and future daughter-in-law. Even though I couldn't hear every word, I saw Richard pull a thick manila folder from his leather briefcase and slap it down onto the pristine white tablecloth.
May you like
Victoria’s reaction was immediate. She glanced at the folder, took a sharp step backward, and whispered something frantic to Ethan.
Ethan opened the folder. The color drained from his face completely. He looked up at Richard, his mouth moving without sound, before turning his blazing, tear-filled eyes toward the foyer—directly at me.
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