Chapter 3 - Secrets Buried in the East Wing
The heavy oak doors of the mansion closed with a definitive thud, shutting out the chaos of Vanessa’s furious departure. Within an hour, the grand estate was eerily quiet once more, save for the ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the study.
Ethan sat behind his massive mahogany desk, the tiny bunch of wildflowers resting in a crystal water glass right beside his laptop. They looked absurdly out of place among the Bloomberg terminals and multi-million-dollar acquisition contracts.
Down the hall, in the staff breakroom, Sophia sat with her head in her hands, waiting for the axe to fall. She had packed her meager belongings into a brown paper bag.
"He's going to sue me," Sophia whispered to herself, tears pricking her eyes. "Or worse. He has enough lawyers to make sure I never work again."
The door swung open. It wasn't Mrs. Alcott with a pink slip. It was Ethan Callaway himself.
He looked different without his suit jacket, his white dress shirt slightly wrinkled at the cuffs, the top button undone. He looked tired—exhausted down to his very bones—but the fierce, defensive wall around his eyes had shifted.
"Sophia Reyes," Ethan said, reading from a digital tablet he held in his hand.
Sophia jumped to her feet, instinctively pulling Lily behind her skirts. "Mr. Callaway. I am so sorry. We are leaving right now. You won't have to look at us again."
Ethan ignored her panic. He walked slowly across the room, stopping a few feet away from the young mother and child. He looked down at Lily, who was busy playing with the hem of her dress, entirely unfazed by the billionaire's imposing presence.
"Why did she do it?" Ethan asked softly.
Sophia blinked, confused. "Do what, sir?"
"Why did she bring me those flowers?" Ethan asked, his voice tightening. "Children don't walk up to strangers crying on the floor unless someone told them to. Or unless... unless they were sent."
Sophia’s face went completely white. The color drained from her cheeks so fast she swayed on her feet. She clutched Lily tighter, her eyes darting nervously toward the hallway.
"I didn't tell her to do anything, Mr. Callaway," Sophia whispered, her voice trembling violently. "I swear to you. I didn't even know she had those flowers. She was supposed to be in the kitchen."
"Don't lie to me," Ethan stepped closer, his authority flashing back into his eyes. "Nobody in this house speaks to me about what happened three years ago. Nobody looks at me without walking on eggshells. But your daughter walks straight up to me, hands me the exact flowers my daughter used to pick, and says 'please don't be sad anymore.' How could she possibly know I was sad?"
Sophia began to cry, silent, heavy tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked down at Lily, then back at Ethan, a look of profound, agonizing guilt washing over her features.
"She didn't know you from a stranger on the street, Mr. Callaway," Sophia choked out. "She's three years old. She doesn't read the financial papers. She doesn't know who owns Callaway Holdings."
"Then why?" Ethan demanded, his voice cracking with desperation. "Why did she choose me?"
May you like
Sophia took a ragged breath, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked around the empty room as if making sure the walls weren't listening, then looked straight into Ethan's soul.
"Because she didn't choose you by accident, Mr. Callaway," Sophia whispered. "And neither did I."
