Chapter 6 - The First Saturday
Ethan wanted Noah moved immediately.
Claire refused.
“You want us in a hotel surrounded by security guards.”
“I want you somewhere controlled.”
“This is his home.”
“This is a building with four public entrances.”
“Three.”
“That does not improve my argument.”
They compromised.
Gabriel installed additional cameras.
The rear alley door received a reinforced lock.
Two security officers rented the apartment across the street.
Noah was told they were “friends who helped keep people safe.”
He accepted that explanation.
Then Saturday arrived.
Noah had remembered Ethan's promise.
At seven twelve in the morning, Claire's phone rang.
She answered sleepily.
“Hello?”
“Is he coming?”
She opened one eye.
Noah stood beside her bed wearing dinosaur pajamas.
“Who?”
“Dad.”
The word hit her.
It was the first time Noah had used it without discussing the concept.
Claire sat up.
“Did you just call him Dad?”
Noah looked confused.
“Maybe.”
Then he ran away.
Ethan arrived at eight.
No limousine.
Gabriel had explained that arriving in a black armored SUV after recent tabloid coverage was not exactly subtle.
So Ethan came in an ordinary rental car.
He carried breakfast.
And a box.
Noah eyed it.
“What is that?”
“You'll see after breakfast.”
Claire narrowed her eyes.
“You bought him something.”
“Yes.”
“We talked about this.”
“It cost twenty-eight dollars.”
“That is suspiciously specific.”
“I kept the receipt.”
Noah opened the box after pancakes.
Inside was a model airplane kit.
Not gold.
Not expensive.
Something that required work.
Noah looked delighted.
“Can we build it?”
“That was the idea.”
They spent two hours at the kitchen table.
Ethan followed instructions.
Noah did not.
Claire drank coffee and secretly took photographs.
At one point Ethan looked up.
“Are you documenting my suffering?”
“I'm documenting your inability to attach a wing.”
“The instructions are defective.”
“The picture literally shows you what to do.”
“Engineering through illustrations is irresponsible.”
Noah laughed so hard milk came out his nose.
Ethan stared at him.
Then laughed too.
Claire froze behind her phone.
She had forgotten Ethan's real laugh.
The public heard the controlled version.
The polite chuckle.
The measured smile.
This was different.
It came from somewhere unguarded.
The same laugh she had fallen in love with.
Later they walked to the beach.
Cold wind moved over the Atlantic.
Noah ran ahead collecting shells.
Ethan and Claire followed.
“You took pictures this morning.”
“No evidence.”
“I saw you.”
“Your eyesight is unreliable.”
“I have excellent eyesight.”
“You once wore two different black socks to a board meeting.”
“They were both black.”
“One was navy.”
He shook his head.
For a while, they walked quietly.
Then Ethan said, “Send them to me.”
“What?”
“The pictures.”
Claire looked at him.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“You have four years to catch up on.”
“I know.”
The words had no accusation this time.
Only sadness.
“I'll send everything.”
He stopped walking.
“Thank you.”
Noah shouted from ahead.
“I FOUND TREASURE!”
They hurried toward him.
The treasure was a bottle cap.
Ethan treated it with appropriate seriousness.
That afternoon, they ate clam chowder at a waterfront restaurant.
A teenage server recognized Ethan but didn't approach.
Claire noticed.
“So much for anonymity.”
“I've never had much.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Usually no.”
“And now?”
He looked at Noah.
“Yes.”
That was something else fatherhood had changed.
Before, Ethan treated publicity like weather.
Occasionally annoying.
Usually irrelevant.
Now strangers could photograph his child.
Know where he went to school.
Study routines.
Everything looked different.
That evening Noah fell asleep on the couch with his head against Ethan's side.
Ethan stopped breathing.
Claire came from the kitchen.
She smiled.
“He does that.”
“What do I do?”
“Nothing.”
“My leg is numb.”
“Parenthood.”
He gave her a look.
“Enjoy it.”
So Ethan remained still for forty minutes.
He would later remember it as one of the best forty minutes of his life.
When Claire finally carried Noah toward bed, Ethan stood to help.
“I've got him.”
“He's heavy.”
“I gave birth to him. I am aware.”
But Noah stirred.
His arms reached instinctively.
Not for Claire.
For Ethan.
“Dad?”
Everything stopped.
Ethan looked at Claire.
She nodded.
He lifted his son.
Noah tucked his face against Ethan's shoulder and fell asleep again.
Ethan's eyes closed.
Claire watched his hand spread carefully across Noah's back.
That was when she knew.
Whatever happened between her and Ethan, she could never take this from either of them again.
After Noah was asleep, they returned downstairs.
“Thank you,” Ethan said.
“For what?”
“Today.”
“You don't need to thank me for seeing your child.”
“I do right now.”
She looked down.
“We should talk about us.”
Ethan's face changed.
“Is there an us?”
“There is history.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Claire couldn't answer.
He moved closer.
Not too close.
“Do you still love me?”
Her breath caught.
“That's unfair.”
“Why?”
“Because love wasn't the problem.”
“What was?”
“Fear.”
“And now?”
“Now there are four years between us.”
“Four years can be crossed.”
“You say that because you're used to solving things.”
“I am.”
“People aren't acquisitions.”
“I know.”
“You can't negotiate your way back into my heart.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“But I can tell you I never got you out of mine.”
Claire stared at him.
The space between them disappeared emotionally before it did physically.
Ethan lifted his hand.
Stopped.
Waited.
Claire did not move away.
His fingertips touched her cheek.
She closed her eyes.
For one second, she leaned into him.
Then glass shattered below.
Both jumped.
Ethan moved instantly.
“Stay here.”
They ran downstairs.
A brick lay on the café floor surrounded by broken glass.
Wrapped around it was a photograph.
Gabriel's security men rushed from across the street.
Ethan picked it up.
The image showed Claire and Ethan walking on the beach that morning.
Noah was between them.
A red X had been drawn over Ethan's face.
On the back:
YOU WERE WARNED ONCE. THERE WILL NOT BE A THIRD TIME.
Claire went still.
Ethan reread the words.
“Once?”
Her eyes filled with a new kind of fear.
“Ethan…”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“When I left four years ago, my father told me he'd already warned you.”
“I never spoke to Victor.”
“I know.”
“Then what warning?”
Claire stared at the broken window.
“That means somebody else delivered it.”
Ethan's mind moved quickly.
Someone close enough to him that he would have listened.
Someone with access.
Someone whose role had never seemed suspicious.
Gabriel appeared beside them.
“There's something you need to see.”
He held out his phone.
His team had enhanced security footage from the night before Claire disappeared four years earlier.
A figure entered Ethan's apartment building through the private garage.
The face was visible for less than two seconds.
But it was enough.
Ethan recognized him.
His expression turned to disbelief.
Because the man who had walked into his building that night had been his closest friend.
May you like
And current chief financial officer, Adrian Vale.
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