Until now.
The conference room was sterile, all glass and steel, but when Grace walked in, it felt like something sacred had entered the space.
She wasn’t the timid housekeeper anymore. She wore a soft beige dress, her hair tied back, posture straight. Her gaze was calm.
And beside her stood a little boy.
He couldn’t have been more than two or three. Chestnut curls, wide brown eyes… and dimples that mirrored Ethan’s perfectly.
Ethan’s throat went dry.
“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice low, almost pleading.
“I didn’t come for money,” Grace replied. “I came because your son needs you.”
The word hit him harder than any press headline ever could.
“Son?”
“He’s sick, Ethan. He has leukemia. He needs a bone marrow transplant—and you’re his only match.”
The whiskey glass in Ethan’s hand dropped and shattered against the floor.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
He could command rooms. He could bend cities. But this?
He had no words.
“I… I didn’t know,” he finally managed.
“You didn’t want to know,” Grace answered, eyes blazing. “But now you have a chance to do the right thing. Not for me—for him.”
The little boy tugged on Grace’s sleeve, then looked up at Ethan.
“Are you my daddy?”
Ethan nearly collapsed under the weight of the moment.
He nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
