Chapter 4 The Price of Secrets

Chapter Four: The Price of Secrets

Ethan hadn't moved from the pew in over an hour.

The church was empty now-just him, the stale scent of lilies, and the sound of rain tapping the stained-glass windows like ghosts begging to be let in.

His fiancée-no, ex-had left without a word. Her mother had hissed something about lawsuits. The guests had scattered like dry leaves.

And still, all Ethan could see was Alessia.

Soaked. Trembling. Holding a photo of a child with his goddamn eyes.

Luca.

The name played in his mind like a curse and a prayer.

He scrubbed his hands down his face. What the hell had he done?

A cough interrupted his spiral.

"Thought I'd find you sulking here."

Ethan looked up to see Marcus, his best friend and best man, leaning in the doorway. Still in his tux. Tie loose, sleeves rolled up.

"You look like hell," Marcus added, walking in.

Ethan scoffed. "I feel worse."

Marcus sat beside him, letting the silence stretch before speaking. "You married her?"

"No."

"But you were going to."

Ethan nodded. "I thought it was the right move. Clean slate. Future. I didn't think... Alessia..."

Marcus raised a brow. "You thought she'd vanish forever? You ghosted her, man."

"I didn't mean to," Ethan snapped. "It wasn't like that. My father threatened to disown me. Alessia didn't come from money-he said she'd ruin my career. I thought... I thought cutting ties would protect her."

Marcus gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, great job with that. She looked real protected when she nuked your wedding."

"She has my son," Ethan whispered, the words sticking to his throat. "I have a son, and I missed everything."

Silence.

"What are you going to do?" Marcus finally asked.

Ethan clenched his fists.

"I'm going to see him."

Marcus looked at him. "Do you think she'll let you?"

"I don't care." Ethan stood, face hardening. "She came to me-at my wedding. Now I'm going to her."

"You sure that's smart?"

"I don't need smart," Ethan said. "I need my son."

-

Across the city, Alessia sat curled on the couch, knees hugged to her chest, laptop open but untouched. An email from her boss blinked unread. An old voicemail from her mother played in the background-something about forgiveness and letting go.

She heard it faintly over the pounding in her head.

And then...

Knock, knock, knock.

Three solid hits on her front door.

She went still.

Another knock.

She stood slowly, heart thudding.

When she opened the door, Ethan stood there. Hair soaked. Shirt wrinkled. No umbrella. No suit jacket.

Just him.

Dripping, desperate, and looking at her like she was the only thing left holding him to earth.

"Alessia," he breathed.

She didn't move. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I need to see him."

"He's sleeping."

"Then I'll wait."

She opened her mouth to protest, but something in his face stopped her.

So she stepped aside.

And for the first time in five years, Ethan Carter walked into the home he never knew he'd abandoned.