Then Ethan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out sothing small and familiar.
"I... I kept this," he said, laying the photo gently on the table.
It was a snapshot. Steph had taken it months ago during our second date. The picture showed Mara laughing, head tilted back, one hand over her chest, and Ethan beside her, not looking at the cara, just smiling at her like she was the only person in the world.
Mara’s breath caught.
"I never knew he even took this," she whispered, tracing the edges of the photo with her fingertips.
"I did," Ethan said. Their laughter quieted into sothing more delicate, like glass that could crack if anyone said the wrong thing.
They sat there, side by side, holding onto a mory like it could anchor them, as it could still an sothing if they rembered it clearly enough.
Mara didn’t cry. She didn’t have to. The smile on her lips, soft and trembling, said it all: This was real. Once. Maybe still.
And inside, through the window, four pairs of very suspicious eyes narrowed, Steve finally flipping the sa newspaper page for the fifth ti.
Ethan’s phone buzzed once, sharp, insistent. Then ca the second vibration. Send.
He didn’t reach for it right away. Sothing in the silence that followed made the air feel heavier. Finally, he picked up the phone. His brow furrowed almost instantly.
The ssage was short as usual. Mara had been mid-laugh, her voice still warm in the air, when she caught the shift. The smile slid from Ethan’s face like a curtain falling. He didn’t say a word.
His eyes stayed locked on the screen, unmoving, unreadable. "Everything okay?" she asked, carefully. But Ethan didn’t answer. And that silence said more than anything.
Ethan’s fingers tightened around the phone. He hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen, war raging behind his eyes. The mont had been perfect, quiet, close, safe. But the weight of the truth tugged at him relentlessly.
He looked at Mara. Her gaze t his, questioning, calm, too calm for the storm brewing in his chest.
"I need to show you sothing," he said softly.
She tilted her head. "What is it?"
With a sigh that felt like peeling back old wounds, he handed her the phone.
On the screen was a ssage from Lucy.
A photo had been attached—her hand on her belly, unmistakably round. Beneath it: "You’ll want to help, won’t you? For your baby? We need money,"
Mara scrolled down. There were more. Pictures. ssages. Subtle threats dressed as sweetness.
Ethan swallowed hard. "I didn’t want to ruin tonight. I just... I didn’t want to lie to you. If I had been more honest with Maria Isabel back then, maybe things would’ve turned out differently. I won’t make that mistake again."
He paused, voice trembling at the edge of control.
"I’ve never touched Lucy. Not even drunk. I can’t explain those photos—but I swear to you, I never would. I couldn’t."
Mara took a slow sip of water, her face unreadable. Then, she set the glass down with a soft clink and turned to him.
"I don’t want to talk about that," she said. "But... I believe you."
She paused, then added with a quiet shrug, "I don’t know why. But I do. Still, let’s see what the DNA test says."
Ethan didn’t speak—he couldn’t. He only reached out and took her hand gently in his. Her fingers closed around his without hesitation. And that... that ant more than any words ever could.
They sat in silence for a while, their hands still intertwined, the air thick with unspoken worries and unsteady hope. Ethan stared ahead, the shadows on the walls suddenly seeming to stretch longer, darker.
"I hate that she chose now," he finally muttered, more to himself than Mara. "She knew exactly what she was doing."
Mara nodded faintly. "Timing is a weapon, Ethan. People like her know how to use it."
There was a stillness to her tone that unnerved him. Not cold, just... careful. Guarded.
"I wish I could erase it all," he said. "All the mistakes. All the blind spots."
"You can’t." Mara’s voice was gentle but certain. "You can only choose what you do from here."
Then her phone buzzed. Just once.
Ethan noticed the flicker of hesitation in her eyes, almost too fast to catch, as she glanced at the screen and turned it face down without checking it.
He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Everything okay?" She smiled, small, and practiced. "It’s nothing." But Ethan had seen that look before, the sa one he wore minutes ago. The look of soone hiding sothing to protect what mattered.
Before he could speak again, Mara stood. "I’m going to check on dessert," she said quickly, moving to the kitchen.
Ethan stayed seated, staring at the phone she left behind on the table.
Still glowing. Still buzzing. And in that mont, he wondered— Who was it
Mara walked to the kitchen with one hand gently resting on her belly, the other gripping the counter for support. Her steps were slow, uncertain. Ethan watched her, his brow tightening with concern. Sothing was off.
From across the room, her brothers had been silently watching too—Steve, Stanley, Stafford, and Stefan. Always alert when it ca to Mara. They exchanged looks the mont her shoulders slumped.
"Mara?" Ethan called, already moving toward her.
Before her brothers could react, Mara stumbled.
Ethan was there in a heartbeat, catching her just before she hit the floor.
"Hey—hey, I got you," he said, voice trembling.
But Steve was already at his side, face hard. "Give her to ."
Without waiting for a response, Steve scooped Mara into his arms and carried her inside. The room, once peaceful, now pulsed with rage. Ethan stood frozen, stunned by how quickly it all turned.
Mara tried to catch her breath, her hand shaking as she accepted the glass of water offered by Stefan. Her eyes were distant, glazed with fear.
Stanley turned on Ethan, voice sharp and accusing. "What the hell did you do to her?"
"No, I didn’t," Ethan began, stumbling over his words. "She got a ssage. That’s what I think upset her."
Steve looked down at Mara. "ssage? What ssage?" Outside, Stanford was already reaching for Mara’s phone, the screen still lit up on the table.
He opened it and froze. One by one, the brothers gathered around, reading the ssage together. Silence fell before fury exploded.
It was a picture of Mara, taken just monts ago. A grainy image clearly snapped from a distance of her in the garden.
Below it: "Looking good, sweet niece. Your uncle misses you. Wait for my surprise."
Steve’s jaw clenched. Stefan’s hands curled into fists. It was him.
Uncle Philip. The man they had worked so hard to put behind bars. The man who should’ve had no access, no voice, no shadow to cast over them—but sohow, still found a way to reach her.
Mara, pale but composed, set the glass down. Her voice ca out barely above a whisper. "I just wanted one day... one mont of peace."
Steve knelt beside her and gently cupped her face. "Hey. Look at ."
She did.
"As long as the four of us are breathing, he will never co close to touching a single strand of your hair again. I promise you."
She fell into his arms, exhaling the fear that had clung to her like smoke. The brothers lifted her with care, carrying her to her room. Stefan checked her pulse and made her comfortable.
Mara reached for sothing on her nightstand—the tiny pair of baby shoes Ethan had knitted with his own hands weeks ago. She held them close to her chest, eyes softening as tears welled up.
Ethan watched from the corner of the room, silent.
He saw them, the brothers hovering over her like guardians, each of them strong and sure in a way he admired and envied. They had always protected her. Always knew what to do.
And all he had ever wanted... was to be the one she could lean on like that.
He stood there, heart heavy, until her breathing slowed and her eyes finally closed.
The brothers left quietly.
So did Ethan.
But in his heart, one truth echoed louder than all the rest. He needed to earn the right to stand beside her again. Not just as the man she cared for... But as the man who could protect her, love her, and never let her fall again.
__
Ethan drove to his office in silence. He tried to get so work done but couldn’t stop thinking of Mara or the ssage. Later, he drove ho, the city lights flickering past his window like ghosts. His hands gripped the wheel too tightly. Mara’s face, the fear in her eyes, the way she clutched those tiny baby shoes played over and over in his mind.
He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sit still. So he didn’t wait until morning.
He walked straight to the old mansion to see Valerie, where the light in the living room was still on. Valerie looked up from the couch, surprised. "Ethan? What—?"
"It’s Philip," he said flatly. That one na was enough to darken the room.
Valerie stood. "What did he do?" Ethan tells her everything. "I should’ve killed him when I had the chance," she spat. "Mom," a calm voice interrupted from the stairs.
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