Chapter Two

Mia felt the weight of Ethan's question settle over her like a suffocating blanket.

Why does he look like me?

Her fingers dug into the counter as her mind raced for an answer, but nothing came. There was no easy way out of this, no excuse that could explain away the resemblance staring Ethan in the face.

Oliver, blissfully unaware of the tension tightening around them, tugged at the hem of her apron. His bright smile and innocent tone were like a cruel reminder of the storm brewing around her. "Mommy, I'm hungry."

Mia swallowed hard, her throat dry. She forced a smile down at him, running a shaky hand through his soft curls. "I'll get you something in a minute, sweetheart."

But Ethan wasn't letting this go.

His piercing blue eyes—the same striking blue Oliver had inherited—bore into her like they could strip away every lie and shield she had built over the years. He wasn't just asking a question; he was demanding the truth.

And if she didn't give it to him, he would find it out himself.

"I asked you a question, Mia," Ethan said, his voice low and controlled, though the fury beneath it rippled like an approaching tsunami.

Mia's stomach twisted as she took a shaky breath. "It's… complicated."

Ethan's jaw tightened, his features sharp as granite. "Complicated? Really? Because to me, it looks pretty damn simple." He stepped closer, his towering frame radiating a presence that made her feel small, cornered. "He looks exactly like me."

The words sliced through her, leaving her scrambling for something, anything, to say.

"Ethan, please," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"How old is he?" he pressed, his tone as cold as the stare pinning her to the spot.

Her lips parted, but the answer refused to come. She knew that no matter what she said, the timeline would betray her. There was no hiding the truth anymore.

"Three," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ethan inhaled sharply, and Mia watched as his expression darkened. She could see the gears turning in his head, his sharp mind piecing together what she had fought to keep hidden.

Three years old.

A one-night stand four years ago.

The math wasn't hard.

A flicker of shock passed across Ethan's face, quickly replaced by something darker - anger, disbelief, betrayal. When he spoke again, his voice was dangerously calm, the kind of calm that promised a storm.

"Is he mine?"

Mia felt the ground beneath her shift, like the universe had suddenly tilted out of alignment. Her heart pounded in her chest, and every fiber of her being screamed to lie, to protect the life she had built. But the truth clawed its way out, leaving no room for escape.

"Yes."

The single word hung in the air, heavy and damning.

Ethan's entire body went rigid, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze burning into hers with an intensity that made her want to shrink away. "You kept my child from me?"

Mia flinched at the accusation in his tone. "I… I didn't do it to hurt you, Ethan."

"Then why?" he demanded, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself, glancing around at the other customers who had started to notice. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Why the hell wouldn't you tell me I have a son?"

Mia felt tears sting her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She had made her choices, and she would stand by them. "Because you disappeared!" she shot back, her voice trembling with anger and pain. "You left without a word, Ethan. No calls, no messages. I thought I was just… just some meaningless one-night stand to you."

Ethan's expression didn't soften, but something flickered in his eyes, something that looked a lot like regret.

"That doesn't justify keeping my son from me," he said, his voice cold and unwavering.

Mia wrapped her arms protectively around Oliver, who had grown quiet, sensing the tension in the room. He looked up at her with wide, curious eyes, his little hand clutching the hem of her apron.

"I did what I thought was best for him," Mia said, her voice breaking.

Ethan's jaw clenched tighter, his knuckles white. "What you thought was best?" He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You had no right to make that decision on your own."

Mia's heart ached at his words, but she refused to back down. "I did what I had to do, Ethan. I didn't know where you were. I didn't even know if you cared."

Ethan stared at her, his gaze unrelenting. "You should have tried harder."

The words hit her like a blow, and she looked away, blinking back tears.

"Ethan, please… not here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced around the café, where a few customers were openly staring now.

Ethan's gaze darkened, but he nodded stiffly. "Then where?"

Mia hesitated, the weight of his question pressing down on her. She didn't want him near Oliver, didn't want to risk him upending the life she had carefully built. But she knew he wouldn't stop until he got answers.

"After my shift," she said finally, her voice shaky. "We'll talk then."

Ethan studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. "I'll be waiting."

With that, he turned and strode out of the café, his commanding presence lingering like a storm cloud.

Mia exhaled shakily, her hands trembling as she clutched the counter for support. She had just unleashed hell, and she had no idea how to contain it.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, snapping her out of her daze. She frowned, her stomach twisting as she picked it up.

Unknown Number.

Her breath hitched. With hesitant fingers, she answered. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end was low, gravelly, and menacing. "You should have kept the secret buried, Mia."

Her blood ran cold, her heart slamming against her ribs. "Who is this?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

But the line went dead.

Mia stared at the phone in her hand, her mind racing. Someone knew.

And they didn't want Ethan to find out.