Chapter 5 - The Web Closes In
Three weeks had passed since I walked out of the Astor Street mansion.
In Chicago, the myth of Ethan Carter’s untouchable perfection was beginning to fray at the edges. While the public corporate front remained stable thanks to aggressive PR spin and billions in emergency liquidity, Ethan’s personal life had turned into an obsessive, waking nightmare.
He hadn't slept more than three hours a night in twenty-one days. His executive office smelled like stale espresso and expensive scotch. The walls were covered with whiteboards mapping every known associate, friend, relative, and historical connection I had ever possessed from my life before Boston.
“Sir,” Marcus Vance said, stepping hesitantly into Ethan’s office on a rainy Tuesday morning, holding a thick manila folder. “We’ve exhausted every domestic lead. Your wife has completely erased her footprint inside the United States.”
Ethan didn't look up from his desk. He was staring at a photograph of me taken at a charity gala six months ago—a photo where I smiled politely while standing three inches behind his shoulder, looking like the perfect trophy wife.
“She didn't vanish into thin air, Marcus,” Ethan said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. “People need resources. People need shelter. People need food.”
“We checked her social security number, her credit cards, her passport registry,” Marcus replied, swallowing hard. “Nothing has been pinged. But... our private intelligence firm in Europe flagged something interesting yesterday.”
Ethan’s head snapped up. His eyes locked onto Marcus. “Go on.”
“We traced a small, secure maritime supply purchase made in Nova Scotia under an obscure agricultural shell company. The purchase order included infant-care supplies, organic nutritional supplements, and high-end cryptographic communication hardware.”
A heavy, suffocating silence descended over the office.
Ethan slowly stood up from his chair. The word infant-care echoed in his mind, colliding with a sudden, devastating realization.
During our final months together, he had been so consumed by the global expansion of Carter Capital that he hadn't noticed the subtle changes in my routine, the way I tired more easily, the way I occasionally rested my hand against my stomach when I thought he wasn't looking. He had been too blind, too self-absorbed to see what was right in front of him.
“She’s pregnant,” Ethan whispered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
Marcus blinked, stunned. “Sir?”
“My wife,” Ethan said, his voice rising with sudden, fierce urgency, “is carrying my child.”
May you like
Before Marcus could respond, Ethan grabbed his car keys and his heavy wool coat from the rack.
“Cancel my meetings for the week,” Ethan commanded, striding toward the private elevator. “Order the Gulfstream to prepare for an immediate flight to Bangor, Maine. We’re going hunting.”
