Chapter 5 - The Glass Fortress
The penthouse suite on the thirty-fourth floor of the Ritz-Carlton was a vast expanse of floor-to-ceiling glass, white marble, and velvet furnishings overlooking the rain-swept skyline of Lake Michigan.
Downstairs, the city was in chaos. Online news outlets were running live streams of Blackwood Enterprises stock dropping four percent, while legal commentators debated the validity of Richard Blackwood's secret trust fund transfer.
Inside the quiet suite, Noah had finally fallen asleep.
Exhausted from the drama of the night, he was curled up under a massive goose-down duvet in the master bedroom, his small thumb tucked into his mouth, his dinosaur backpack resting on the nightstand beside a glass of warm milk.
I stood by the window of the adjoining living room, holding a warm cup of chamomile tea, watching the storm lash against the heavy glass. I had taken off my wet coat, revealing my simple, faded blue bakery sweater. I felt entirely out of place in this palace of luxury.
Behind me, the heavy oak doors of the suite opened smoothly.
Ethan walked in carrying a silver tray with two plates of warm chicken soup and a loaf of artisanal sourdough bread—the exact kind of bread Noah had asked for earlier. He was dressed down now, wearing a dark gray cashmere sweater and dark trousers, his shoes off. Without the sharp corporate suit, he looked tired, human, and remarkably like the man who used to make me burnt pancakes on Sunday mornings in our tiny college apartment.
"He's sound asleep," Ethan said quietly, setting the tray down on the marble coffee table. "My private physician, Dr. Hayes, checked his vital signs while he was resting. He said Noah is completely healthy. Exceptional heart rate, great lungs."
"I took care of him," I said, my tone cooler than I intended, keeping my back turned toward the window. "I didn't need a team of private doctors to raise a healthy boy."
Ethan flinched slightly, the words hitting their mark. He didn't argue. He slowly walked over to the window, standing three feet away from me, his reflection hovering beside mine in the rain-streaked glass.
"I know you did, Claire," Ethan said softly. "You did an incredible job. He’s polite, he’s smart, and he looks at you like you’re the entire universe."
"He's my entire universe," I replied, turning to look him directly in the eyes. "Which is why I need to know what your plan is, Ethan. You burned your engagement with Victoria on live television tonight. You defied your own board of directors. What happens tomorrow when the market opens?"
Ethan took a slow breath, resting his hands in his pockets. "Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, I am calling an emergency board meeting at Blackwood Tower. My father's lawyers will formally present the trust documents transferring fifty-one percent of the voting shares to Noah."
"And Victoria's father?" I asked, remembering the woman's vicious threats. "The Hale family's loans?"
"Let them call the loans in," Ethan said, a cold, lethal confidence returning to his voice for a brief second. "I have enough liquid capital in my personal offshore accounts to buy out the Hale family's debt obligations twice over. Victoria thought she held leverage over me because I let her father handle our European expansion. She forgot that I built seventy percent of this company's assets with my own hands."
He stepped closer to me, the faint scent of cedar and rain radiating off his warm skin.
"I don't care about the Hale family, Claire. I don't care about the stock price. The only thing I care about right now is the seven years I lost with my son... and the seven years I lost with you."
My breath hitched in my throat. I looked away, staring down at my teacup.
"Ethan, don't," I whispered. "You can't just erase seven years of pain with a grand gesture in a hotel suite. I spent seven years believing you chose your father's empire over me. Every time Noah asked why he didn't have a dad, every time I had to choose between paying the heating bill or buying him winter shoes... I thought of you sitting in your high-rise building, not caring."
"I care!" Ethan’s voice cracked, raw and violent with emotion.
He reached out, his warm, large fingers gently wrapping around my hand, setting the teacup safely down on the wooden ledge beside us. He didn't pull me close, but he held my shaking hand between both of his, his touch sending a jolt of ancient, familiar electric heat through my veins.
"Claire, please look at me," Ethan begged, tears filling his dark hazel eyes. "Every single night for seven years, I sat in that high-rise looking out at the city, wondering where you were. I hated you because I thought you sold our love for a payout. I hated myself even more because, despite believing you abandoned me, I couldn't stop loving you for a single day."
He brought my hand up to his lips, pressing a warm, desperate kiss against my knuckles.
"My father lied to us both. He built a wall of steel between us because he thought he knew what was best for the family. But he was wrong. You are my family, Claire. You and Noah. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."
I stared at him, my heart torn between the lingering, sharp agony of the past and the overwhelming, terrifying pull of the man standing before me. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to pull him into a kiss. I wanted to run away to protect my son from the storm that was coming.
Before I could say a word, Ethan's private phone on the table began to vibrate frantically.
Ethan didn't want to answer it, but the screen flashed with a high-priority red alert from Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
May you like
He clicked the speakerphone, his face instantly going grim. "Ethan speaking."
"Mr. Blackwood," the breathless voice of Dr. Vance came through the speaker. "You need to come back to the hospital immediately. Your father has suffered a secondary cardiac arrest. He's asking for you... and he's asking for Claire."
