Chapter 18: He's His Dad!

The pressure of his lips against hers wasn't content with just grazing the surface, it wanted more, moving with a quiet insistence that sent a sudden flash of memory tearing through Vivian's mind. A hotel room. Darkness. Two people tangled together in desperation.

She shoved him back.

"Mr. Hartwell." Her voice came out steadier than she felt. "What do you think you're doing?"

There was nowhere to retreat. Her back was already against the door, and he hadn't moved far, just enough. His cologne drifted into the space between them, warm and clean and entirely too present to ignore.

Ethan looked down at her. Her face was flushed, her breathing uneven, her eyes very wide and very direct. He was certain of one thing, the splitting tension that had been building behind his temples since morning had vanished the exact moment his lips touched hers.

Gone. Completely.

He held her gaze and said, with perfect composure, "If I told you I mistook you for someone else, would you believe me?"

The question landed in the silence between them.

Vivian stared at him.

His eyes were completely steady. Completely unreadable. The eyes of a man who could say anything and make it sound like a statement of fact.

She did not believe him for a single second.

But she also couldn't, in good conscience or good sense, stand here and tell Ethan Hartwell to his face that she thought he had kissed her on purpose. The women of New York would collectively laugh her out of the city.

She shifted, trying to free her wrist from his grip. "It's, it's fine, Mr. Hartwell. Don't worry about it."

Ethan held her wrist one moment longer, just one, then released it with unhurried grace.

"Who were you looking for?" he asked.

The pivot was so smooth, so utterly natural, that Vivian's train of thought genuinely derailed before she caught herself.

She blinked. "Dr. Reid."

"Cameron Reid?"

"You know him?" She just wanted to pay and leave. "Do you know where he is?"

"Family friends." Ethan slid both hands into his coat pockets, expression unchanged. "He was called to the dean's office just now. He mentioned your treatment f*e to me in passing, I've already settled it."

Inside the supply closet across the room, pressed against the back wall with the door cracked exactly one centimeter, Cameron Reid listened to Ethan Hartwell calmly describe him as a man who would chase a patient down over a modest hospital bill.

His eye twitched.

He wanted very badly to burst out of the closet.

He did not burst out of the closet.

Because thirty seconds ago he had witnessed, with his own two eyes, through this exact crack, Ethan Hartwell pull a woman against the door and kiss her.

Initiate a kiss.

A forced kiss.

On a woman who was clearly not thrilled about it.

Cameron pressed a fist to his mouth and stared at the ceiling of the closet.

This was the single most historic event he had witnessed in eleven years of friendship.

"Since you're here," Ethan said, turning from the window, "I'll take you back."

Vivian opened her mouth.

"I happened to hear you studied traditional medicine abroad." He continued before she could speak, his tone conversational, unhurried, leaving no natural gap for refusal. "I have someone I'd like you to look at. It's a child, it isn't convenient for me to bring him out."

Vivian's mouth closed.

She looked up at him sharply.

A child.

The word moved through her like a current.

Could it be

"He's very lovable." Ethan was already moving toward the door, coat in hand, as though her agreement was a formality they were both politely observing. "I appreciate it in advance, Miss Rong."

Vivian stood in the middle of the office.

She had not agreed.

She had not been given a functional opportunity to disagree.

She picked up her bag and followed.

The closet door eased open approximately four seconds after their footsteps faded down the corridor. Cameron Reid emerged in stages, first one hand on the frame, then his head, then the rest of him and stood blinking in the now-empty office, watching the distant figures disappear around the corner.

He pulled out his phone with trembling fingers and started dialing.

Because someone needed to hear this. Immediately.

Lure her to the hospital. Forced kiss. Claim mistaken identity. Smoothly redirect. Settle her bill without being asked. Manufacture a reason to take her home. Deploy the child.

The entire sequence had unfolded in under ten minutes, seamless and entirely without detectable effort, like a man running a masterclass he hadn't announced.

Cameron shook his head slowly.

Who had ever said Ethan Hartwell didn't know how to pursue a woman?

From this day forward, Cameron was his dad.