It was Saturday morning, the kind that used to mean peace. But peace hadn't belonged to Ethan for a long time.
The sun filtered lazily through the tall windows of his mansion, casting long shadows over the marble floors. Andrew's laughter rang out from the hallway, sharp and sweet, like sunlight cutting through mist.
Ethan sat on the edge of the leather couch, coffee cooling in his hand, but his eyes weren't on the boy—they were on the night before at the Shepherd mansion. The way the firelight flickered in those grand rooms, the quiet moments he stared at Mara, her uncertain smile, the way her fingers had curled around Andrew's tiny ones the night she'd held him, and her brother's conversation.
He didn't know for sure—not yet—but something deep in his gut told him the truth was about to rip open his world.
She's his mother
