Chapter 4 - The Investigation and the Inheritance
The morning sun broke over the snowy Greenwich hills, casting long, sharp shadows across the polished oak floors of Ethan’s private study.
He had not slept. All night, he had sat at his mahogany desk, reviewing financial audits, personnel records, and communications logs from his estate management company. The deeper he dug, the darker the picture became.
When Rosa had requested a transfer to the Greenwich estate two weeks ago, the human resources director—a longtime loyalist appointed by Arthur Haynes—had not only denied the transfer but had flagged Rosa’s file with a confidential note: “Low-tier domestic employee; restrict access to main residence wings; ensure maximum shift overlap with family events.”
They hadn't just ignored her; they had deliberately segregated her within the very house where Ethan lived, breathed, and worked every day, keeping father and daughter apart through bureaucratic malice.
A soft knock sounded at the heavy double doors.
“Come in,” Ethan said.
The door opened, and Marcus Vance, Ethan’s senior legal counsel and closest confidant, stepped inside carrying a thick leather briefcase.
“Morning, Ethan,” Marcus said, his expression grim as he took a seat across the desk. “I’ve reviewed the preliminary filings for the dissolution of the Haynes partnership. Their legal team is threatening a retaliatory breach-of-contract lawsuit, but given the security footage and the public nature of the cancellation, they don't have a leg to stand on. Furthermore, the SEC is already sniffing around Arthur’s corporate holdings due to some anomalous asset transfers we uncovered last night.”
“Good,” Ethan said, rubbing his eyes. “Strip away whatever leverage they have left. I want their corporate influence dismantled piece by piece.”
Marcus paused, opening his briefcase and pulling out a secondary file containing medical and personal documents. “I also looked into Rosa Martinez’s background, just as you asked. Ethan... what she and that little girl went through over the past three years is staggering.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Talk to me.”
“When Rosa found out she was pregnant four years ago, she tried to reach you,” Marcus explained, sliding a printed log of phone records and certified mail receipts across the desk. “She called your corporate office sixteen times during the month you were finalizing the European mergers. Every single message was intercepted and deleted by Victoria’s personal assistant, who was working as an administrative intern at the firm at the time. Victoria knew you had a history with Rosa from your Columbia days; she had been paying private investigators to monitor your past connections.”
The air in the room seemed to vanish.
“Victoria knew,” Ethan whispered, his voice dangerously low.
“She knew,” Marcus confirmed softly. “She engineered your silence, Ethan. She made sure you never found out about Rosa, and she made sure Rosa believed you had abandoned her willingly.”
Ethan stood up so fast his leather chair rolled backward and slammed into the wood-paneled wall. The guilt that hit him was suffocating—not just for the four years he had lost, but for the agonizing loneliness Rosa and Lily had endured while he lived in blissful, gilded ignorance.
Just then, a soft knock tapped against the door.
The door cracked open an inch, and a small, curly head peeked into the study.
“Mr. Ethan?” Lily whispered, clutching her cloth rabbit tightly against her chest.
Ethan’s rigid posture melted instantly. He rounded the desk in two strides, dropping gracefully onto one knee so he was at eye level with the little girl.
“Good morning, Lily,” Ethan said, his voice softening into a warmth Marcus had never heard before. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mommy made pancakes,” Lily announced solemnly, holding up two clean fingers. “And she said I can play the singing piano again if you say it’s okay.”
May you like
Ethan smiled, a genuine, heavy-hearted smile that reached his eyes for the first time in years. He reached out and gently touched a stray curl falling across her forehead, noting again the striking, unmistakable gray-green of her irises.
“You can play that piano whenever you want, Lily,” Ethan said softly. “In fact... it belongs to you now.”
