Chapter 4 - The Cottage in the Woods
Lily looked at Ethan for what felt like an eternity. The weapon in her hand lowered slightly, but the suspicion in her eyes remained. “Your mother promised she would leave us alone if we stayed hidden. I changed my name. I took the money and used it to build a life for Annie where no one would ever look for us. Why are you here?”
“Because my mother lied to me,” Ethan said openly. “I didn't know about you. I didn't know about Annie until today. When Arthur died, I thought I lost everything. If there is a part of him left in this world, I need to know.”
Lily’s breath hitched. She looked past Ethan toward Clara, who stood respectfully near the car, keeping watch. Slowly, she unlatched the chain and opened the door.
The inside of the cottage was warm, smelling of cinnamon and old books. It was a modest home, filled with handmade toys and drawings pinned to the refrigerator. On a small coffee table sat a framed photograph. Ethan walked toward it, his chest tightening. It was a photo of Arthur and Lily, laughing on a beach somewhere, looking blissfully happy. Arthur looked younger, free from the crushing weight of the Whitmore name.
“He loved you,” Ethan murmured.
“And I loved him,” Lily said, leaning against the doorframe, looking exhausted. “He was going to leave the company, Ethan. The night he died, he was on his way to meet me. We were going to run away to Vermont. He had bought a house under a fake name. He wanted to be a teacher. He hated the empire.”
Ethan swallowed hard. He had always wondered why Arthur was driving on that treacherous mountain road in the middle of a storm. The official police report said it was a tragic accident. Now, a dark doubt began to bloom in his mind.
“Did my mother know he was leaving?” Ethan asked.
“She found out,” Lily whispered, a tear escaping her eye. “She confronted him that morning. Arthur called me, panicked. He said she threatened to ruin him, to ruin me. He told me to pack my bags. He was coming to get me. But he never made it.”
A small sound came from the hallway. Ethan turned to see Annie standing there in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes, clutching a worn teddy bear. She looked at Ethan, then at her mother.
“Mama?” Annie asked. “Is that the man from the park?”
Lily rushed to her side, scooping her up into her arms. “Yes, sweetie. But he’s… he’s a friend. He’s your Uncle Ethan.”
Annie’s eyes went wide. “Uncle? Like Daddy’s brother?”
Ethan walked over, kneeling down so he was at eye level with the little girl. The cold, ruthless billionaire felt a strange, profound warmth wash over him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, golden fountain pen—the only thing he had on him.
“Hi, Annie,” Ethan said, his voice softer than Clara had ever heard it. “I’m your uncle. I knew your daddy very well. He was the best man I ever knew.”
Annie smiled, a tiny, tentative thing that lit up the room. “He had a blue jacket too.”
“I know,” Ethan said, swallowing the lump in his throat.
May you like
But the tender moment was brutally shattered. Outside, the bright beams of multiple headlights cut through the cottage windows, sweeping across the walls. The loud gravel-crunching sound of multiple heavy vehicles parking outside echoed through the quiet woods.
Clara burst through the front door, her face pale. “Mr. Whitmore, we have a problem. Your mother’s private security team just arrived. And they brought the press with them.”
