Chapter 4

Ethan Blackwood's POV

The slight upward tilt at the corners of his eyes, the way his lips turned down when pressed together, even that faint line between his brows when he frowned—

I stared at him for a few seconds, an inexplicable sense of wrongness rising inside me.

He looked exactly like the photos of myself as a child.

If I didn't clearly remember that in over thirty years, I'd only been with one woman—Vivian—and Vivian had never had a child, I'd almost suspect this boy was my biological son.

The child's eyes were too bright. Like polished obsidian, seemingly timid yet hiding a calmness beyond his years.

I was almost certain this was a carefully orchestrated scam. Probably some new trick from a competitor—in Manhattan's business circles, these schemes weren't uncommon.

"Ethan, tell me honestly—is this child yours or not?"

Harrison suddenly set the boy down on a lounge chair, hands on his hips, glaring at me like I was a criminal on trial.

The air in the terminal froze instantly.

From the corner of my eye, I caught the little boy stopping his knee-rubbing, blinking those big eyes between the bristling grandfather and me, his small face full of astonishment.

I bent down, picked up the superhero toy at my feet, fingers gripping the plastic figure's head. "Grandfather, what are you talking about? Impossible."

Grandfather clearly didn't believe me, stepping closer, his voice rising several notches, "How is it impossible? This child is the spitting image of you as a boy! If he's not yours, whose is he? Did you mess around with some woman a few years ago and—"

"No." My tone remained calm. "I don't have a child."

I handed the toy back to the little boy, looking directly into his eyes—those eyes looked back, unguarded yet carrying a strange composure.

"What's your name?" I lowered my voice. "What's your purpose in approaching me?"

A smack landed on the back of my head from Grandfather.

"Is that any way to talk to a child? Move aside!"

I watched Grandfather's expression transform instantly, bending down to the boy with a kindly smile, "Little boy, what's your name?"

"Grandfather, I'm Evan." The boy answered obediently.

"Evan? What a lovely name! Did you get separated from your parents?" Grandfather cheerfully squeezed the boy's small hand, shaking it gently.

I noticed Evan blink his moist eyes, his gaze circling my face twice.

Then—he placed the superhero toy behind him and tapped its belly several times in some particular rhythm.

The gesture was so subtle anyone else would have missed it.

But I didn't.

I narrowed my eyes. What was this child doing? Sending a signal?

Evan lifted his chubby little face, tears still clinging to his lashes. "I... I don't have a father, and I can't find my mother anymore."

My brow furrowed.

This child had just been calling "Mom, wait for me"—clearly his mother was nearby. Yet now his eyes held a perfectly calibrated panic, like a carefully adjusted stage light.

This child's acting was far too good.

"We just came back from abroad," Evan lowered his eyelids, his small shoulders giving a slight shrug. "Mom said she had to meet someone very important and told me to wait here, but I ran too fast and got lost..."

He paused, looking up, his voice carrying just the right tremor, "Grandfather, I'm so scared. Can I go home with you?"

"No."

"Come on, let's go home."

Grandfather and I spoke simultaneously, in completely opposite directions.

Evan immediately put on a frightened, pitiful look, pressing against Grandfather's leg, both hands clutching the old man tight, "Grandfather, that uncle is so mean."

Sure enough, the next second, Grandfather's cane landed on my back.

"Fine if you keep that stern face at the company, but why be cruel to a child?"

"Grandfather." I lowered my voice, maintaining patience. "This child's origins are unclear, his appearance too coincidental. We should contact airport security and hand him over to—"

Evan's eyes suddenly reddened.

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, dripping onto the terminal's light gray carpet, his voice barely audible.

I watched Grandfather pull Evan closer, his cane thumping the floor with a sharp crack that echoed across several rows of seats, "This child wants to stay with me—we're meant to be! I dare anyone to send him to the police!"

He raised his head, his eyes carrying a rare, undeniable gravity, "I'm not going to Switzerland. It's not that important—nothing's more important than my great-grandson."

"Grandfather, you're going to Switzerland for treatment—"

"Look how clever this child is." Harrison wasn't listening at all, lowering his head to poke Evan's cheek, his eyes unable to hide his adoration. "Just like you as a boy. Evan, Great-grandfather will buy you candy. Let's go home first and look for your mother slowly, okay?"

I discreetly pulled out my phone, fingers flying across the screen, preparing to contact Lucas directly to search the airport.

Just then, I caught Evan stealing a glance at me.

The look was quick, like a beam of light sweeping past then withdrawing, and then he obediently nestled into Grandfather's embrace, nodding, "Okay... Great-grandfather."

That "Great-grandfather" was sweet and crisp, coaxing Grandfather into beaming smiles, even the wrinkles at his eyes smoothing out.

"No." I pocketed my phone, my tone characteristically cold. "I'm contacting airport security now to have them broadcast a search. If we can't find a guardian within half an hour, we must follow protocol and call the police."

Grandfather abruptly stood up, pulling Evan's small hand toward the exit, his steps far more nimble than usual, "You dare! Ethan Blackwood, I'm telling you—I'm taking this child. If you dare interfere, I'll donate all my Blackwood Enterprises shares to charity, not leaving a single one!"

I stood in place, watching the old man and child walk away.

Sunlight slanted through the terminal's massive floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching their two shadows long. Grandfather's white hair and Evan's stubborn cowlick formed an absurd silhouette against the backlight.

Just then, Evan suddenly stopped.

He didn't turn around, just tilted his head slightly, as if thinking about something. Then he turned, looking up at me, his bright eyes appearing especially clear in that brilliant backlight—

"Great-grandfather, can I go with that uncle too?" he said. "I like that uncle."

The terminal's background noise seemed suddenly lowered by three decibels.

Grandfather's eyes lit up, his steps immediately stopping, turning to jerk his chin at me with a triumphant expression that made my temple throb, "You hear that? The child said so himself! You're coming with us too. Don't forget to help find his mother—you personally, no handing him over to the police."

I looked at the old man and child.

Grandfather's eyes held irrepressible joy; Evan lowered his eyelids, the corners of his mouth twitching up slightly.

That arc lasted only a fraction of a second, but landed precisely in my line of sight.

I pocketed my phone, my voice calm, "As you wish." I paused. "But let me remind you, Grandfather—don't end up being scammed and still helping them count the money."

Grandfather snorted, leading Evan toward the parking lot with a swagger, muttering, "What Swiss treatment? Nothing's more important than my dear great-grandson..."

I followed two steps behind, my gaze settling on the boy's stubborn cowlick, bobbing in the afternoon sunlight.

The chill at the back of my neck intensified.

Who exactly was setting this trap for me?

And where did they find a child who looked so much like me?