POV: Vivian Chen
I'm halfway to the exit when Ethan's hand wraps around my wrist.
"Let go of me." My voice is ice, but inside I'm screaming. His touch burns like it did six years ago—like my skin remembers him even though my heart wants to forget.
"Not until you answer my question." His grip isn't hard, but it's firm. Unmovable. "How old is Leo?"
People are staring. Phones are out. By tomorrow morning, this will be all over the internet: Vivian Chen returns with mystery child. Is Ethan Sterling the father?
Good. Let them talk. Let Claire squirm.
"Five," I say clearly, loud enough for the nearest reporters to hear. "Leo is five years old."
I watch Ethan's face as the truth crashes into him like a tidal wave.
His eyes go wide. His jaw clenches. His hand on my wrist tightens for just a second before he lets go like I've burned him.
"Six years ago..." he starts, his voice rough. "Nine months..."
"Congratulations, Mr. Sterling." I smile, but it's all teeth. "You're a father. Surprise."
Marcus appears at my side, his hand protective on my lower back. "Vivian, we should go."
But Ethan steps in front of us, blocking our path. "No. Nobody's going anywhere until we talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about," I snap. "You made yourself very clear six years ago about what you thought of me and my 'convenient' pregnancy. So I left. End of story."
"That's not—" Ethan runs his hand through his hair, making it messy for the first time since I've known him. He looks desperate. Broken. "I didn't know. If I had known you were actually pregnant—"
"You did know!" My voice cracks despite my best efforts. "I told you! I came to your office with the test results and you laughed in my face!"
The ballroom has gone completely silent. Even the waiters have stopped moving.
Claire pushes through the crowd, her face a mask of fake concern. "Vivian, you're making a scene. Maybe we should discuss this privately—"
"Stay out of this, Claire." Ethan doesn't even look at her. His eyes are locked on mine. "This is between me and Vivian."
"But Ethan—"
"I said stay out of it!" He finally turns to her, and the cold fury in his eyes makes even Claire take a step back. "Whatever you think is happening here, whatever you think you are to me—you're wrong. Go. Away."
Claire's face goes pale, then red, then pale again. She opens her mouth, closes it, then practically runs from the ballroom in her expensive heels.
A tiny, petty part of me enjoys watching her humiliation.
"Vivian, please." Ethan's voice softens when he looks back at me. "Just give me five minutes to explain."
"Explain what? How you called me a liar? A manipulator? How you said I planned everything to trap you?" My hands shake with six years of buried anger. "You want to explain how you made me feel like dirt on your expensive shoes?"
"I was wrong," he says, and the words sound like they're being ripped out of him. "I was so, so wrong. And I've regretted it every single day since you left."
"Good." I grab Leo's hand tighter. "You should regret it. Come on, baby. We're leaving."
But Leo pulls against me, staring up at Ethan with curious eyes. "Mama, why does that man look like me? And why are you crying?"
I didn't realize I was crying until Leo points it out. I quickly wipe my face. "I'm not crying, sweetheart. Just... allergies."
"You don't have allergies," Leo says with the brutal honesty only five-year-olds can manage.
Ethan kneels down slowly, bringing himself to Leo's eye level. "Hi," he says softly. "My name is Ethan."
"I'm Leo." My son tilts his head, studying Ethan's face. "You have the same eyes as me."
"I do," Ethan agrees, his voice thick with emotion. "And the same nose. And the same—"
"That's enough." I pull Leo back, putting myself between them. "Don't talk to my son."
"Our son," Ethan corrects, standing up. The look he gives me is pure pain. "He's our son, Vivian. You can hate me all you want—God knows I deserve it—but don't keep me from him."
"I kept you from him?" I laugh, but it sounds hysterical. "You did that yourself six years ago when you—"
"When I was an idiot," Ethan interrupts. "When I let my advisors convince me you were lying. When I believed fake evidence over my own instincts."
I freeze. "What fake evidence?"
"The research." Ethan's jaw clenches. "Files that showed you'd been investigating me for months before that night. Photos of you outside Sterling Corp. Notes about my schedule, my habits, my weaknesses. My legal team said it was proof you'd planned everything."
My blood runs cold. "I never... Ethan, I never researched you. I barely knew who you were before that night."
"I know that now." His voice drops. "But six years ago, the evidence looked real. Very real. Professional, even."
"Someone set me up," I whisper, my mind racing. "Someone wanted you to think I was lying."
"Or someone wanted to make sure we stayed apart," Ethan says quietly.
We stare at each other as pieces of a puzzle I didn't know existed start clicking into place.
That night at the business party. Claire handing me a drink. "You look stressed, sis. This will help you relax."
The way the room spun after just one sip.
Claire's concerned face: "Oh no, you're sick! Come on, let me take you somewhere to rest."
Waking up in Ethan's bed with no memory of how I got there.
And later, after I found out I was pregnant, the way Claire was so helpful. "I'll go with you to tell him, Vivian. For moral support."
Claire, who insisted we go to Ethan's office on the worst possible day—right after his lawyers showed him the fake research files.
Claire, who held me while I cried afterward, whispering: "I told you he was a monster. You should leave before he destroys you completely."
"Oh my God." The words barely make it past my lips. "Claire."
Ethan's eyes sharpen. "What about Claire?"
"She gave me the drink that night. She took me to your room. She—" I can't breathe. Six years of running, of struggling alone, of hating Ethan Sterling with every fiber of my being. "She set us both up."
"Why would she—" Ethan stops mid-sentence, his face going dark. "The acquisition. Chen Fashion House. If you and I were together, or if there was a scandal, it would complicate the deal."
"Or ruin it completely," I finish. "And if I left, if I disappeared..."
"The acquisition would go through without any complications," Ethan says slowly. "And Claire would be perfectly positioned to take over the company."
We stare at each other in horror.
"We need proof," I say urgently. "Hotel records, security footage, anything from that night—"
"I'll get it," Ethan says immediately. "I'll have my team search every archive, every backup file. If there's evidence, we'll find it."
Marcus clears his throat. "Vivian, Leo's getting tired. Maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere more private?"
I look down at Leo, who's yawning and leaning against my leg. He's had a long day, and this drama is too much for a five-year-old to process.
"You're right." I turn to Ethan. "Tomorrow. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Where?"
I hesitate, then pull out my phone and type in my address. "Seven PM. Come alone. And Ethan? Don't tell Claire—or anyone else—what we discussed. If she realizes we're onto her..."
"She'll destroy the evidence," Ethan finishes grimly. "Understood."
As we turn to leave, Leo looks back at Ethan and waves. "Bye, Mr. Ethan!"
Ethan raises his hand, his expression torn between heartbreak and wonder. "Bye, Leo."
The car ride home is silent except for Leo's chatter about the "chocolate fountain that was taller than Sofia" and "the fancy sandwiches with no crusts."
Marcus drives while I sit in the back with Leo, my mind spinning.
Claire drugged me. Claire set me up. Claire manipulated both of us.
My own step-sister destroyed my life out of jealousy.
"Mama?" Leo tugs on my sleeve. "Are you okay?"
I force a smile. "I'm fine, baby. Just thinking."
"About Mr. Ethan?"
My smile falters. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you look sad when you think about him." Leo leans against me. "But also happy. Can you be sad and happy at the same time?"
Out of the mouths of babes.
"Yes, sweetheart," I whisper, kissing the top of his head. "Sometimes you can feel both things at once."
That night, after Leo is asleep, I sit in my home office staring at old photos.
My mother's smiling face at the opening of Chen Fashion House.
Me at nineteen, before everything fell apart.
Claire at my mother's funeral, her face the perfect mask of sympathy while her eyes calculated how to take everything I loved.
My phone buzzes. A text from Sofia: "Found something. Claire made a large payment to someone at the Jade Garden Hotel six years ago. Tracking down who."
Another text, this one from Ethan: "My investigators are on it. We'll have answers soon. Get some rest. Tomorrow changes everything."
I'm about to respond when my doorbell rings.
I freeze. It's 10 PM. Nobody should be here.
Slowly, I walk to the door and check the peephole.
Ethan Sterling stands in the hallway, his tie loose, his jaw clenched with determination.
I open the door. "I said tomorrow—"
"I couldn't wait." He holds up a tablet. "My team found the security footage. All of it. Vivian, you need to see this right now."
My heart pounds. "Show me."
He turns the tablet around.
The screen shows grainy footage from six years ago. A hotel hallway. The timestamp reads 11:47 PM.
Claire appears, leading a stumbling version of me down the corridor. She uses a keycard to open a door—Room 2847, Ethan's room—and helps me inside.
Then Claire exits, alone, and pulls out her phone. Even in the grainy footage, I can see her smile.
A smile of victory.
"There's more," Ethan says, his voice tight with fury. He forwards the video.
Two days later. My old apartment building. Claire entering with a folder.
Thirty minutes later, Claire leaving without it.
"Those were the research files," Ethan says. "She planted them in your apartment, then 'anonymously' tipped off my legal team about where to find them."
I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't process the level of betrayal.
"But that's not the worst part." Ethan's hand shakes as he forwards to another clip.
This one shows Ethan himself, at the same party six years ago. A waiter hands him a drink. Ethan takes it, distracted by a phone call.
He doesn't see the waiter exchange a look with someone off-camera.
He doesn't see that same waiter accept an envelope from a woman whose back is to the camera.
But when the woman turns slightly, just for a second, her face is visible.
Claire.
"She drugged us both," I whisper. "She planned the whole thing."
"There's one more thing." Ethan's voice is dark, dangerous. "My IT team tracked the payment Sofia found. The person Claire paid? He wasn't just a hotel employee. He was my assistant's cousin. She used him to get my room number, my schedule, access to everything."
"Your assistant knew?"
"Former assistant. I fired him three years ago for embezzlement. But yes—he helped her."
We stand there in my doorway, the truth settling over us like ash.
Six years of pain. Six years of hatred. Six years of running.
All because of Claire's jealousy.
"What do we do now?" I ask quietly.
Ethan's eyes meet mine, and in them I see cold, calculated rage.
"Now? We destroy her."
Before I can respond, both our phones buzz at the same time.
A text from an unknown number.
I open mine with shaking hands.
The message contains a photo—Leo, asleep in his bed, taken from outside his window.
Below it, a text: "Back off, or next time I take more than pictures. —C"
My blood turns to ice.
"She was here," I whisper, racing toward Leo's room. "She was at my home. She threatened my son."
Ethan is right behind me, already calling someone. "James, I need a security team at this address immediately. And call the police. Claire Chen just threatened a child."
I burst into Leo's room. He's safe, still sleeping peacefully, his stuffed dinosaur clutched in his arms.
But the window is open.
The window I know I closed before putting him to bed.
And on the sill, a small envelope with my name written in Claire's distinctive handwriting.