Chapter 6 - Bloodline and Black Ink
Ethan stood amidst the wreckage of his shattered wedding, his chest heaving as the distant sound of Caroline’s sobbing faded toward the driveway, accompanied by the furious roar of a departing Maybach engine.
He turned back toward me, the raw desperation in his eyes bordering on madness.
"Sienna," he breathed, stepping past Eleanor, who stood like a petrified statue, utterly drained of her venom. "Please. Talk to me. Just you and me. Let the staff take the boys inside to the parlor—"
"No one touches my boys," I said, my tone absolute and unyielding.
"I'm not going to hurt them!" Ethan choked out, running a hand through his hair. "Sienna, they're my sons! Five years... you let me believe you walked away because you hated me. You let me believe you moved on!"
"I did move on," I said coldly. "Upward."
"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?!"
"I tried to, Ethan!" My voice finally cracked, the ghost of the terrified twenty-three-year-old girl I had been surfacing for a fraction of a second before the steel returned. "The night your mother brought those fake photos to the penthouse. I stood in front of you. I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. I told you I had news that would change everything. Do you remember what you said to me?"
Ethan stared at me, his eyes widening in horror as the memory clawed its way out of the dark recesses of his mind.
"You said," I continued, each word landing like a hammer on an anvil, "'Nothing you say will change the fact that you don't belong in this house, Sienna. Sign the papers and make this easy for once.'"
Ethan dropped his head, his hands clenching into fists against his thighs. A single tear rolled down his cheek, dripping onto the pristine lapel of his tuxedo. "I was angry... I was stupid. My mother told me—"
"Your mother told you what to think, what to wear, who to marry, and how to breathe," I said, gesturing to Eleanor, whose face was still frozen in shock. "And you obeyed her like a well-trained dog. If I had told you about the pregnancy that night, what would have happened, Ethan? Eleanor would have tied me up in court for five years. She would have had me declared an unfit mother with her bribed judges. She would have taken Liam, Noah, and Caleb, put them in boarding schools in Switzerland, and raised them to be just like you: hollow, obedient, and miserable."
Liam reached up and gently took my hand. "Mama, don't be sad. We have each other."
Ethan looked at Liam, his expression breaking entirely. He dropped back down onto one knee, looking directly into his eldest son's eyes. "Liam... I'm your dad."
Liam looked at him with an eerie, calm detachment that was far more devastating than anger. "No, you're not. You're the man in the picture on Mama’s old desk. The one she threw in the trash."
Ethan flinched as if a bullet had passed through his chest. He looked up at me, completely shattered, a broken billionaire begging for scraps of mercy at the back of his own ruined wedding.
"Sienna... please. What do you want? Money? You said you have money. Custody? I'll give you whatever you want. Just let me be their father."
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"You want to know what I want, Ethan?" I pulled a sleek, silver fountain pen from my designer clutch and laid it gently on the edge of the polyester tablecloth. "I want you to sign something for me. Just like five years ago."
***
