Chapter 2: The Ask
Chloe's POV
"Do you need something from him? Speaking of which…"
He paused, and I could hear him choosing his words carefully, the way he always did when he was trying to protect someone from something.
"Five years ago — as you know, things ended very badly between everyone. Ethan might not want to…"
"I have cancer," I said. There was no gentle way to say it, so I didn't try. "I won't live past Christmas. I want him to take care of our daughter, Mia."
The silence that followed was the kind that has weight to it.
"What?" His voice came back smaller than before. "Chloe. This is — you're still so young. How could this happen?"
I had prepared myself for many possible reactions. Somehow his shock still landed somewhere tender.
"Perhaps it's fate," I said, and I meant it to sound steadier than it did. "In any case, Carter — help me. Mia needs someone to take care of her, and I don't have much time left."
He exhaled slowly. When he spoke again, the hesitation was gone, replaced by something quieter and more certain.
"I'll talk to Ethan. This is serious — I think he'll agree to see you."
A brief pause, as though he were already running through the logistics in his mind. "If he agrees, let's arrange it at Pine Crane Restaurant. Just like old times."
"Anywhere is fine," I said. "Thank you, Carter."
"Don't be too pessimistic." His voice carried the careful warmth of someone trying very hard to believe what he was saying. "You may still get better."
"Thank you," I said. "I hope so."
I didn't tell him that hope, at this point, was a luxury I had mostly stopped affording myself.
Hanging up the phone, I felt a mix of hope and anxiety. Would Ethan agree to take care of Mia? He would, wouldn't he? As her father.
Three days later, Pine Crane Restaurant.
Ethan was three minutes late.
He was still as handsome as I remembered.
Five years had passed, and his features had grown more mature, his bearing far more layered. He wore well‑tailored clothes, with a pocket watch resting at his chest. As a boy, he had never liked watches.
It seemed people did change--much like the way he looked at me. No longer brimming with affection, his gaze was now cold and assessing.
I looked away from his eyes, forcing myself to stay calm.
"Ethan, thank you for coming today." I summoned up my courage to break the silence.
Ignoring my greeting, he sat down unprompted and said, “Carter told me you wanted to see me. What is it?”
Seeing his impatient, get‑straight‑to‑the‑point manner, I skipped the small talk.
"Stage IV lung cancer," I said, without preamble. "Liver and stomach. I won't make it to Christmas."
His expression grew colder, yet he did not interrupt me.
He hadn't flinched, I thought. *Not even a little. *
The bitterness of it sat at the back of my throat, quiet and familiar, like something I had learned to swallow a long time ago.
I kept my voice level, the way you carry something fragile. "We have a daughter Mia. I need you to take her when I'm gone, before CPS gets involved. That's all I'm asking."
The silence had weight.
"Really? A daughter?" He let out a faint, mocking little laugh."She is Alexander's daughter, isn't she? I remember you just happened to have had an affair with him five years ago."
"How could you think that? She is yours..."
He cut me off before I could finish speaking, and went on to say.
"Don't try to fool me, Chloe."
"I pulled your records this week," he reached into his jacket and set a printed summary on the table between us.
"What do you gain from lying? Chloe." He tapped the page once. "What exactly are you after?"
"What lie have I told?" I retorted instinctively.
I picked up the document in surprise, and for a moment I simply stared at it, my mind refusing to move in any useful direction. In perfect health. The words, clean and authoritative.
That's nothing like what my attending physician told me.
What were these documents? I could barely believe my eyes, and I read them over and over.
And then I understood with a cold, specific recognition.
Perhaps someone went into the national medical database and changed my record.
Though I did not know why someone would target me.
"No, let me..."
"Do you think I'm still as easy to fool as I was five years ago?" He cut me off.
Looking at the anger and disappointment mingled in his eyes, I thought back to the past.
Five years ago, I had been imprisoned after being framed for leaking medical trade secrets to Windsor Group.
I was also being accused of having an affair with Alexander Windsor, of betraying Ethan.
Would explaining even help? I knew I had no proof, yet I still wanted to speak in my own defense.
Before I could speak, the door opened.
It's Serena.
She came in the way she always did — no announcement, no effort, as if the room had simply been waiting for her. Camel cashmere coat, a small gold pin at the collar.
She wore a bracelet that glinted. the easy confidence of a woman who has never once needed to wonder whether she belonged.
The last time I had seen her was at the airport. Seen up close now, she had done well for herself over the years, with a fine complexion.
"You're back, Chloe." Her smile arrived before anything else, warm and unhurried, the kind that had always made a room feel smaller. "We've all missed you so much. It hasn't been the same without you."
"Why didn't you tell us so we could meet you at the airport?"
"It's fine. There was no need for that." I did not want to say much to Serena.
My throat tightened. I wanted to explain myself to Ethan— that I hadn't been lying.
But she interrupted me again.
"Then take good care of yourself. You don't look well."
She turned to Ethan, her fingers finding his arm the way they clearly always did now. She leaned in just slightly, her voice dropping to something softer, more private, as though I weren't standing three feet away.
"Honey, I'm sorry to pull you away, but the florist needs a decision this week. For the ceremony." She said it lightly, like an afterthought, but her hand stayed where it was a moment longer than necessary before she let it fall.
"Whatever you choose is fine," Ethan said.
Serena's smile deepened, just slightly. "Perfect."
She turned back to me then, as though she had only just remembered I was there.
"Chloe, I wonder if you know." A small pause, perfectly placed, the kind that didn't happen by accident. "Ethan and I are getting married. Christmas Eve."
She said it the way you mention the weather — casually, almost gently. "We'd love for you to be there. You're still family. That's never changed for me."
A cold, hollow ache spread through my chest. My throat tightened, and for a heartbeat I could not draw a proper breath.
Every quiet hope I'd once held for a future with Ethan crumbled to dust right in front of me.
A wedding with Ethan had felt like my destiny ever since I was a child. Now Serena was the bride. How dramatic it all was.
"I still need to go to the bridal shop. Take your time talking."
She gave me a provocative look, if I wasn't mistaken.
"Drive safely," Ethan told her.
She left, as if she had seized the finest gem in the world.
Serena Winston. The woman who had walked into my home five years ago with a DNA report whose authenticity I could not verify with and walked out with my name, my inheritance, my father, and eventually the man sitting across from me.
My father had resolved to disown me. As it happened, I hated him for fathering Serena with my mother's best friend Susan. Burning with hatred for this whole family, I simply left.
Regardless of whether that DNA report proving I was not my father's biological daughter was real or fake.
She was Ethan's girl friend now.
She was also a Hartman Pharmaceuticals research associate, the darling of Cedar Haven's upper circle — and she still called me sister in public, with that warm, untroubled smile that never changed by a single degree.
Christmas Eve.
The date Dr. Brown had circled. Their wedding night would be my death night..
There was no time to process the bitterness welling up inside me. I snapped back to my senses.
"Ethan, I truly don't have much time left. Please trust me one last time."
"The records don't lie," he continued.
"And I remember what you're capable of. Five years ago, you cost this company everything — I won't let that happen again." His voice was flat and final.
"Don't contact me again through Carter. We're done here."
"Do you think I'm faking my illness to get hold of some kind of medication? I'm not."
“You'd better not be. And another thing, I've seen photos of Mia. She's the same little girl I met at the airport the other day. Are you really using a child now?"
"Stop using your daughter to get close to me. She's innocent. ”
"It was a coincidence. I didn't mean to make Mia fall."
Misunderstandings piled one after another. I did not know which to explain first.
"You have no credibility with me. You lost it five years ago."
"As for the wedding, I don't mind you coming — if you have the face to face our old friends."
He left, giving me no chance to defend myself further.
Outside, it was raining. My heart felt heavy and dark. I had never imagined our first meeting after five years would turn out this badly.
Yet I knew I could not give up. There was always a way.
My phone lit up — a voice message from my neighbor, five seconds long. Mia's voice, small and certain: "Mommy, I finished the Christmas tree drawing. When are you coming home? I miss you."
I pressed the phone against my chest and closed my eyes. Thankfully, I still had my precious daughter.
The records were changed. Ethan had walked out.
But I thought about the small hand that had gripped the hem of my coat when I left this evening, not wanting to let go, holding on for three extra seconds before she finally did.
There has to be another way. There always was. I just hadn't found it yet. I needed to go home. Mia was waiting.
I picked up my coat and walked out into the rain.
The next day.
I brought Mia with me, walking the length of Cedar Haven's main street toward the Hartman Pharmaceuticals building.
Today, I would give Ethan strands of Mia's hair. The DNA report would prove that I was not lying.
She was still so young. I could not bear to leave her waiting at home every single time. Besides, I wanted Ethan to see Mia face to face.
Then he would notice how much she resembled him.
Her coat was the warmest one she had, the cuffs worn pale at the edges but still good against the wind.
Along the way, she walked on my left, one hand gripping mine, the other pressed against the edge of her eye patch to keep the wind from lifting it.
"Mom, do I look like a one‑eyed pirate?" She planted her hands on her hips and asked me proudly.
"You're far cooler than any of them."
We talked as we walked.
In my heart, I prayed to God that everything would go smoothly today.
When we reached the front of the building, my mind wandered. It was such a strange yet familiar place.
Mia tugged my hand and said, "Mom, the door," and I pushed through the revolving door and brought her in with me.
