Do I have a Daddy?

Olivia's Pov 

The words had barely left my mouth before a sudden spike of panic shot straight to my chest.

Did I just make a massive mistake?

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. But as I forced myself to hold Ethan's gaze, I quickly talked myself down. No. It's better this way. If Ethan was going to look into me—if he was planning to dig into my life to ruin me—he would have found out about Vincent eventually. Telling him now made it look like I had nothing to hide. 

It eliminated the suspicion before it could even start.

For a second, the cold, composed mask Ethan wore completely shattered. His eyes widened, his lips parting in genuine, unscripted shock.

"You... have a son?" he asked, his deep voice faltering slightly.

"Yes," I said, keeping my chin up and my tone completely even. "I have a son."

"How?" Ethan stood up slowly from his leather chair, his massive frame towering over the desk. "You aren't married."

"I was," I lied without blinking, wrapping the false story tightly around myself like armor. "His father passed away. So it's just the two of us now."

The shock on Ethan’s face lingered for only a fraction of a second before it vanished, replaced by an unreadable, dangerous dark look.

Without a word, he walked out from behind his executive desk, taking heavy, deliberate steps toward me.

Instinctively, I backed up until my spine hit the cold, hard wood of the mahogany doors. "What are you doing?" I snapped, my breath hitching. "Keep your distance, Mr. Rothwell. Be professional."

Ethan didn't stop. He closed the remaining space between us, stepping so close that his broad chest nearly brushed my shoulders, trapping me completely against the door. The familiar scent of his expensive cologne swept over me, thick and suffocating.

He leaned in, his gray eyes locking onto mine with a terrifying, unyielding intensity.

"I know you like playing games, Olivia," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "But this cannot be one of them."

My blood ran cold. "What?"

"I don't care what you say," Ethan said, his face inches from mine. "This time, I am not letting you go."

Shock reverberated through my entire body. "What do you mean, you're not letting me go?”

Instead of answering, Ethan abruptly stepped back, creating a massive distance between us as if he hadn't just pinned me against the door. His face turned back into an impenetrable sheet of ice, his voice dropping into a professional, freezing calm.

"Strictly business, Ms. Olivia. Be professional," he said coldly, turning his back on me and picking up a pen from his desk. "You can leave now."

I stared at him, my brain scrambling to process the sharp shift. My hands were shaking so violently I could barely turn the brass door handle. Pushing open the heavy doors, I practically stumbled out into the quiet executive hallway.

He's going to ruin me, I thought wildly, my head spinning. That’s what he meant. He’s going to make sure I never escape his control until he burns my company to the ground.

"Olivia!" Maya hurried down the carpeted corridor, her eyes wide with worry as she saw my pale face. "How did it go? What happened?"

"Car," I gasped, clutching my portfolio against my chest as if it could stop my pounding heart. "Let's get to the car first."

We practically ran to the private elevator and hurried out to the waiting black sedan. The moment the doors clicked shut and the driver pulled into Madrid’s afternoon traffic, I reached up with trembling fingers and unhooked the top button of my silk blouse, leaning my head back against the seat and gasping for air.

"Olivia, you're freaking me out here!" Maya turned toward me, clutching her iPad tightly. "What's the problem? Are you okay? Do you need water?"

"No, no..." I managed to catch my breath, pressing two fingers against my throbbing temples. "You won't believe who was in there. Who I met."

Maya frowned. "Who? Who was it? Julian?”

I shook my head, my lips trembling. "No. Ethan."

Maya’s eyes went wide as saucers. "Ethan? As in Ethan Blackwood? Julian's brother?"

"Yes!" I swallowed hard, staring out the window. "He changed his last name. That's why I had no idea. He’s back, Maya. He said something about not letting me go. He's going to ruin me. I told him about Vincent, and I think it only made him angrier."

"Why?" Maya gasped, leaning closer. "Why on earth did you tell him about Vincent?"

"I couldn't hide him forever!" I panicked, my voice cracking. "If we're working together, he was bound to find out! I knew he’d try to play games with me and dig into my life. If I hid Vincent and he found him later, he would have started tracing who the father was. So I just told him the father was dead so he wouldn't bother asking!"

Maya let out a heavy, stressed sigh, slumping back against her seat. "Olivia... don't you ever want to just tell him the truth?"

"No!" I said immediately, horror lacing my tone. "No! I don't want to have anything to do with him or his family! Who knows where Kelvin is or what his father might do? I don't want to be anywhere near that family again. This is for the better. After this autumn show, I will make sure we never, ever work with V-Global again."

Maya watched me sympathetically, reaching over to gently squeeze my arm. "Okay. Okay, calm down. We'll make this work somehow. Whenever you have to meet him, I can step in as your representative or your assistant. We can cook up excuses. Just breathe, Olivia."

"Right," I whispered, forcing myself to nod. "Right. I'll try."

By the time we got back to the Aurelia Jewels headquarters, I threw myself into work, trying to drown out the memory of Ethan's gray eyes. I organized files, reviewed design proofs, and answered emails, but no matter how hard I tried, his face kept playing on a loop in my head.

At seven in the evening, I finally packed up my bag and headed home to my apartment.

The moment I unlocked the front door, the heavy stress of the day melted away.

"Mami!"

Vincent came trotting down the hallway, wearing his little navy pajamas. I dropped my purse on the entryway table and knelt down, catching him in a tight hug and burying my face in his soft hair.

"Hi, my heart," I murmured, kissing his cheek. 

"You're still awake?"

"He waited up for you, Ms. Olivia," Elena, the nanny, said with a warm smile as she stepped out of the kitchen. "He almost fell asleep twice on the sofa, but he refused to go to bed until he saw you."

"Thank you so much, Elena," I said softly, standing up with Vincent in my arms. "We'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Have a good night," Elena said, bowing politely before heading out the door.

I carried Vincent into his bedroom, setting him down on his small bed. He leaned back against his pillows, swinging his little legs back and forth.

"Mami, when I was at the hospital today, they brought a sick man in," Vincent said, his little voice trailing off thoughtfully. "He looked really old. He was coughing a lot."

I smiled gently, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from his forehead. "Hospitals are where people go to get better, baby."

Vincent looked down at his small hands, his cheerful expression fading into something quiet and sad. "Mami... when am I going to get better? Will I be able to play with my friends at the park sometime?"

A sharp, unbearable pang shot straight through my chest. My throat felt like it was closing up, the pain of his words hitting me far harder than anything Ethan had said today.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a sweet, bright smile onto my face as I sat on the edge of his mattress. "It's going to be fine, my love. You're going to be able to play at the park soon, okay? You're feeling fine right now, right?"

"Yes," Vincent grumbled softly. "But when I play too much, my back hurts and I get sick again. When is it going to stop?"

I hated myself at that moment. I hated that I didn't have an answer, that I couldn't give my six-year-old son a date or a guarantee.

"It will stop soon," I promised, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "Just take your medications like a good boy, okay? Did you eat your dinner?"

"Yes, Miss Elena gave me pasta," he nodded, his eyelids already growing heavy.

"Good boy. Time for bed now." I pulled the soft duvet up to his chest and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, Vincent."

"Love you, Mami," he murmured sleepily.

I stood up quietly and stepped toward the bedroom door, reaching for the light switch.

"Mami?"

I paused, turning back around in the dim light. "Yes, baby?"

Vincent rubbed his eyes with his tiny fist, looking up at me with innocence. "Do I have a daddy?”