Chapter 3 - The Doorstep on 4th Street
The address on the crumpled piece of paper Ethan had managed to obtain from a sympathetic registry clerk was an aging apartment building on 4th Street, wedged between a noisy auto-repair shop and a laundromat that smelled eternally of bleach and damp cotton.
He parked his BMW two blocks away, realizing immediately that driving a hundred-thousand-dollar luxury vehicle into this neighborhood was like wearing a neon sign that read Target. He left it locked, walked the remaining distance, and stood in front of the peeling green front door of Building 402.
The buzzer panel was a rusted grid of metal buttons with faded handwritten labels.
Riley - Apt 3B.
Ethan pressed the button. A harsh, electronic buzz rattled the frame, followed by a metallic click. He pushed the door open and climbed three flights of narrow, uncarpeted stairs, his chest heaving not from the exertion, but from a terror he had never felt in any boardroom or hostile corporate takeover.
He stood outside Apartment 3B. The door was painted a dull gray, with a small brass knocker shaped like an anchor.
He raised his hand and knocked twice.
Inside, the sound of small footsteps pattered against the floorboards, followed by a muffled child’s voice.
“Mommy, someone’s at the door!”
Then, the lock turned.
The door swung inward. Clara stood there holding a dish towel, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, flour dusting her cheek. She stopped dead when she saw him. The color drained from her face, leaving her pale and rigid.
“How did you find this place?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, filled with a cold, defensive fury.
Before Ethan could answer, the two boys appeared from behind her skirts, peering out with wide, curious eyes. Finn wore his sliding glasses, and Leo stared up at Ethan with those unmistakable honey-colored eyes.
“Mommy, is that the man from the coffee shop?” Finn asked, tugging on her jeans.
Clara didn't look down. Her gaze remained locked on Ethan’s face, as if she were searching for the monster she had divorced five years ago.
“Clara,” Ethan began, his voice breaking for the first time in his adult life. “Please. Just… let me in.”
“There is nothing for you here, Ethan,” she said, her hand tightening on the edge of the door. “You made your choice five years ago in that living room. You told me you didn't want to be a father. You told me my dreams and our family were obstacles to your success. Well, you succeeded. You’re a rich man. Go back to your tower and leave us alone.”
“I gave it up,” Ethan said.
Clara blinked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What?”
“I just walked away from the Apex merger,” Ethan said earnestly, stepping one inch closer, ignoring the physical barrier of the threshold. “I canceled the deal that made me king. I tore up the contracts an hour ago. I don't care about the money, Clara. I care about you. I care about them.”
He dropped to one knee, bringing himself down to the eye level of the two little boys who looked so much like him.
Leo didn't flinch. He leaned forward slightly, tilting his head.
“Are you our dad?” Leo asked, his voice crystal clear and devoid of malice, carrying only the terrifying simplicity of childhood truth.
May you like
Ethan felt a tear slip down his cheek—the first time he had cried since he was a child. He looked up at Clara, whose eyes were shimmering with unshed tears that she was fighting with every fiber of her being to suppress.
“I am,” Ethan choked out, looking back at his son. “I’m your dad. And I am so, so sorry I’m late.”
