Chapter 8 - A Seat at the Table
The air in the room was electric, thick with tension that threatened to explode at any moment.
Ethan stood frozen in the middle of the marble floor, looking from the empty chair beside his father to Emma, who hesitated for a moment before slowly taking her seat. Noah quickly slid into the chair next to her, placing his small dark backpack on the floor beside his feet.
Ethan’s gaze locked onto his son. For the first time, he truly looked at the boy. He noticed the soft brown curls that matched Emma’s, but as Noah looked up, Ethan caught sight of the shape of the boy's jawline, the distinct curve of his eyebrows, and the intensity in his dark eyes—features that were unmistakably Blackwood.
A heavy, suffocating knot tied itself in Ethan’s throat. A realization so profound and overwhelming hit him that he had to reach out and steady himself against the back of a mahogany chair.
"Noah..." Ethan whispered, the name leaving his lips like a prayer and a curse all at once.
"Ethan, sit down," Richard repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument as he pulled out his own chair at the head of the table.
Victoria rushed forward, grabbing Ethan’s arm with desperate strength. "Ethan, no! We are leaving. We don't have to stay here and be insulted by your father and his little charity case. Come with me right now!"
Ethan slowly turned his head to look at Victoria. For seven years, she had been by his side—the dutiful, perfect society woman who had comforted him after Emma disappeared, the woman who had seamlessly integrated into his life and his business empire. But looking at her now, seeing the frantic, guilty fear in her eyes, Ethan felt a cold realization wash over him.
He gently, but firmly, detached her fingers from his arm.
"Sit down, Victoria," Ethan said, his voice flat, emotionless, and colder than ice.
Victoria gasped, stepping back as if he had struck her. "Ethan..."
"I said sit down," Ethan repeated, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a terrifying intensity.
Reluctantly, her body shaking, Victoria slid into the chair directly across from Emma. She kept her hands buried in her lap, her eyes fixed on the white tablecloth, refusing to look up at Richard or Emma.
May you like
Ethan pulled out the chair at the opposite end of the table, sitting down slowly. His eyes never left Emma’s face.
The restaurant manager, sensing the delicate, explosive nature of the moment, stepped forward quietly, pouring sparkling water into crystal goblets before retreating behind the heavy mahogany doors, leaving the family alone in the vast, golden-lit room.
