Chapter One

Mia Carter moved through the café with practiced ease, balancing a tray of steaming coffee cups while dodging a rushing barista. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the sound of chatter and clinking cups. The morning rush had dwindled into a manageable rhythm, giving her a moment to catch her breath. She tucked a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear, already thinking about the pile of bills waiting for her at home. Just a few more shifts, she told herself. One day at a time.

The soft chime of the bell above the door signaled a new customer, but Mia barely looked up. She was too busy wiping down the counter, her focus on keeping herself moving. Stillness made room for thoughts, and thoughts were dangerous.

Then, she heard it.

A deep, smooth voice ordered an espresso, and every muscle in her body froze.

Her heart stopped.

Mia's hand tightened around the damp cloth as a wave of pure dread crawled up her spine. That voice it had been years, four to be exact but she could never forget it. Slowly, her gaze lifted, and when her eyes landed on the man standing at the counter, her entire world tilted.

Ethan Blackwell.

He was impossible to miss. The sharp lines of his black suit emphasized his broad shoulders and lean frame, exuding wealth and authority. His dark hair was immaculately styled, and his sharp jawline carried the faintest dusting of stubble. But it was his eyes, those stormy blue eyes that had haunted her dreams, that pinned her in place.

Ethan. The man she had spent one reckless, unforgettable night with. The man who had disappeared without a trace, leaving her to pick up the pieces. The man who had no idea he had a son.

Her breath caught as she took him in. Time had only made him more striking, more dangerous. And judging by the way his piercing gaze roamed over her, he recognized her too.

Mia's stomach twisted painfully. He remembers me.

Ethan's expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes. Something dark, calculating. When he finally spoke, his voice was smooth, yet laced with an edge she could not define.

"Long time, Mia."

Her pulse thundered in her ears. She forced a tight, uneasy smile, her fingers gripping the counter like a lifeline. "Ethan… what a surprise."

"A surprise?" He tilted his head slightly, studying her with unnerving intensity. "That is an understatement, do not you think?"

Mia swallowed hard. She could not do this. Not here, not now. The walls of the café suddenly felt smaller, closing in around her.

Ethan leaned on the counter, his movements deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to dissect her. "Did not expect to see me again?"

Mia let out a shaky laugh, the sound hollow in her ears. "Not exactly. Last I checked, you were not the coffee shop type."

His lips curved into a faint smirk, but it did not reach his eyes. "People change."

Not enough, she thought bitterly. Not enough to prepare for what was about to happen next.

Before she could come up with an excuse to leave, a soft giggle sounded behind her.

Mia froze.

Her three-year-old son, Oliver, came skipping into the café, his tiny sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor. His dark curls bounced with each step as he made his way toward her, his chubby hands clutching a crayon drawing.

"Mommy!" he called, his voice bright and cheerful. He ran straight to her, wrapping his small arms around her leg.

Mia's heart plummeted to her stomach.

Ethan's entire body went rigid. She could feel his gaze shift from her to the child clinging to her side.

The café seemed to fall into a suffocating silence, the hum of voices and clatter of dishes fading into the background.

Mia forced herself to look at Ethan, praying he would not notice. But when her eyes met his, she saw the exact moment realization dawned. His gaze locked onto Oliver, and something dark flickered in his expression.

Oliver peeked up at her, oblivious to the tension in the air. "Mommy, who is that man?"

Ethan's jaw tightened, his stormy eyes boring into hers.

"Mia," he said quietly, his voice like the calm before a storm, "why does he look like me?"

The tray in Mia's hand nearly slipped as panic surged through her. "Ethan…"

"Answer me," he demanded, his tone low and dangerous. "Who is he?"

Mia's mind raced for a way out. She could not do this now. Not in front of Oliver, not in the middle of the café. "He is… he is no one," she said quickly, her voice trembling.

Ethan's eyes narrowed, his gaze dropping back to Oliver, who was now coloring on a napkin. The resemblance was undeniable—Oliver's dark curls, the shape of his face, even the piercing blue of his eyes. It was as if someone had taken Ethan's features and placed them on a smaller canvas.

"I am not blind, Mia," Ethan said sharply, his voice cutting through her defenses. He straightened, his commanding presence filling the space. "He is my son, is not he?"

Mia's throat tightened, and she shook her head, taking a step back. "I do not know what you are talking about."

Ethan let out a humorless laugh, the sound cold and full of disbelief. "Do not lie to me."

"Please, just leave," she whispered, desperation creeping into her tone.

But Ethan was not going anywhere. He took a step closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. "How long have you been hiding him from me?"

Tears pricked at the corners of Mia's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She had worked too hard, sacrificed too much to protect Oliver from this very moment. "You have no right"

"I have every right!" Ethan's voice rose, drawing the attention of a few nearby customers. He quickly lowered it, leaning in until his face was inches from hers. "You kept my son from me, Mia. Did you really think I would not find out?"

Mia's chest heaved as she struggled to keep her composure. "You left, Ethan. You disappeared without a word. I did not have a choice."

"You had a choice," he countered, his voice icy. "You chose to keep me in the dark."

Before Mia could respond, Oliver's voice broke through the tension. "Mommy, is he mad at you?"

Mia's heart shattered at the worry in her son's voice. She knelt down, pulling him into her arms. "No, sweetheart. Everything is fine."

But it was not fine.

Ethan crouched beside them, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at Oliver. "Hey, buddy," he said, his voice gentler now. "What is your name?"

Oliver looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. "Oliver," he said shyly.

Ethan's jaw clenched, and Mia could see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

He stood abruptly, fixing her with a steely glare. "This is not over, Mia."

Before she could respond, Ethan turned and walked out of the café, leaving her trembling and clutching her son.

Mia knew, deep down, that her carefully constructed world was about to come crashing down.