Secrets, Lies, and Liam

The office buzzed with rumors. But in Ava's world, only one thing mattered now—Liam.

She drove faster than she should've, wind tearing through her nerves as she sped toward the small brick school just outside the city. His school. His safe haven.

Until now.

She found him on the playground, tucked in the corner of the sandbox, building a lopsided castle with another boy. His laughter—the sound that always steadied her—cracked through her fear like sunlight through a storm.

But she felt it—the shift in the air.

The watchful eyes of teachers. The curious glances. The whisper that traveled too fast in places it shouldn't.

They knew.

Or worse—someone had told them.

"Mommy!" Liam beamed when he saw her.

She crouched down and hugged him hard, too hard. "Hey, baby. Ready to go early today?"

He nodded happily, gathering his tiny backpack. "Are we getting ice cream?"

She smiled. "Definitely."

They didn't speak of headlines or cold boardrooms or mothers with knives for smiles. But as she strapped him into his seat, she knew the questions were coming. And not just from him.

Ethan was waiting at her apartment.

He looked like he hadn't slept—tie undone, coat slung over one arm, eyes haunted.

"Is he okay?" he asked the moment she stepped inside.

"He's fine. For now," she said. "But this can't keep happening."

"I didn't know she'd go this far."

"She always does," Ava said quietly, guiding Liam to his room. "And now he's in the middle of it."

Ethan's voice broke. "I want to meet him."

Ava turned slowly. "What?"

"I want to meet my son."

The words landed like a crash.

For a moment, silence stretched wide between them. Years of heartbreak, betrayal, and quiet sacrifices compressed into a single second.

"Not like this," she whispered. "Not when everything's falling apart. He doesn't know you. He doesn't know what this means."

"I can fix that," Ethan said. "Let me."

Ava shook her head. "You don't fix this with grand gestures. Or press conferences. You fix it by being there. Quietly. Consistently."

"I will," he said. "Whatever it takes."

She studied him, searching for the man she used to know—and the one she hoped he'd become.

Then, a soft voice interrupted them.

"Mommy?"

Liam peeked around the corner, pajama-clad and blinking.

Ava turned toward him. "Hey, baby. I thought you were playing."

He rubbed his eyes. "I heard voices."

Ethan took a breath. "Hi, Liam."

The boy looked at him curiously. "Who are you?"

Ava hesitated.

Ethan knelt down to eye level. "Just a friend of your mom's. Is it okay if I visit sometimes?"

Liam nodded slowly. "If you bring cookies."

Ethan smiled, eyes misting. "Deal."

The quiet in the room was broken by the soft ding of Ava's phone.

One message.

Liam: "Mommy, is Mr. Cole my dad?"

The ground tilted beneath her.

Her fingers trembled as she gripped the device, the weight of her son's innocent question slamming harder than any accusation the media could hurl. She stared at the screen, willing herself to breathe.

No one had told him. No one was supposed to.

She hadn't even told Ethan.

Not yet.

Her phone buzzed again.

Liam: "I saw you dancing with him on TV. He looks like me."

Her legs gave out, and she sank slowly onto the couch behind her. The air was too thick, her chest too tight.

How could she explain it to a child when she hadn't even told the man who deserved to know?

Outside her office door, voices passed—casual, unaware. The company kept spinning. The world kept moving. But Ava was frozen in place, trapped between the future she wanted to protect and the past she could no longer hide.

She closed her eyes.

It's time.

Not tomorrow. Not next week. Now.

She stood, straightened her blazer, and picked up her phone—not to text Liam, but to message Ethan.

Ava: We need to talk. Alone. Tonight.

His reply came almost instantly.

Ethan: Name the place. I'll be there.

---

That Night

Ava waited at the edge of the quiet park Liam loved—the one tucked behind the bookstore, hidden from the chaos of the city. The sun was low, streaking the sky in gold and bruised pink.

Ethan arrived exactly on time.

He looked tired. Alert. Braced for anything.

"Ava?" His voice was softer than she expected.

She nodded toward the bench. "Sit. Please."

He did.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then she pulled out her phone and handed it to him.

The screen showed Liam's message.

Ethan read it.

Once. Twice.

And then he looked up at her.

"I'm his father, aren't I?"

Ava's throat burned. "Yes."

The silence that followed wasn't cold—it was vast. Like everything unspoken between them had cracked open.

"I should've told you sooner," she whispered. "I was scared. Of losing him. Of losing myself."

He swallowed, hard. "How old is he?"

"Six. His birthday's in July."

Ethan let out a breath that sounded like a mix of wonder and grief. "Six years I didn't know. Six years he didn't know me."

Ava's eyes shimmered. "I didn't want to punish him with my mistakes."

"You didn't," Ethan said slowly. "But I wish you had trusted me."

She nodded, tears slipping free. "So do I."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the grass. "Does he know anything else?"

She shook her head. "Only that I love him more than anything. And that I'd protect him from everything—even this."

Ethan looked up again. "But maybe he doesn't need protecting. Maybe he needs the truth."

She didn't answer. She couldn't.

Then he said the one thing she never expected.

"I want to meet him."