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Chapter 6
Ethan Smith strode briskly down the hospital corridor, the sharp scent of disinfectant irritating his nose. But the moment he pushed open the ward door, the sterile air was replaced by an overpowering floral sweetness.
"Dad, look!" Luna Smith was nestled in Alexander Huxley's arms. When she spotted Ethan, she tilted her chin up, her lips curling into a triumphant smirk. "I told you he'd bring food!"
Alexander ruffled his daughter's hair affectionately, not even sparing Ethan a glance as he stood in the doorway.
The insulated lunchbox made a soft thud as Ethan set it on the bedside table. As he turned to leave, he heard Luna's cooing voice behind him: "Daddy, feed me—"
The hallway lights were harsh and pale. He counted his own footsteps like a ticking countdown.
The days that followed were eerily calm. Sophia Sinclair and Luna orbited around Alexander, leaving Ethan in rare peace. He packed his belongings quietly, methodically erasing every trace of himself from the house.
When moonlight seeped through the curtains, he pulled out the photograph hidden against his chest. The edges were worn with age, yet carefully preserved. The woman in the photo cradled a little girl, both smiling at the camera with eyes that held the sparkle of an entire galaxy.
"Three more days..." His thumb brushed gently over the figures in the photo, his throat tightening as he swallowed the ache of longing.
"What three days?"
A shrill voice shattered the silence. The photo was yanked from his grasp so violently he almost felt his heart tear in half.
Sophia's hand trembled as she clutched the picture. When she saw the image, her perfectly sculpted brows twisted in fury. "Who is this bitch?!"
"Let me see!" Luna snatched the photo, an inexplicable surge of jealousy burning through her. The paper crumpled in her grip, the little girl's sweet smile now marred by a jagged crease.
Ethan snatched it back with a speed that sent a gust of air between them. He examined the damage with the urgency of someone stanching a bleeding wound.
"An old friend," he muttered, tucking the photo back against his chest, where his heart pounded painfully beneath the fabric.
Alexander suddenly glanced around. "Why is so much furniture missing?"
The question seemed to flip a switch. Sophia stormed toward the study, her stilettos hammering against the floor like rapid drumbeats. When she reappeared, her eyes churned like a stormy sea.
"Where is my pearl necklace?" Her nails dug into Ethan's wrist as she gripped him. "The South Sea pearl one!"
Ethan remembered the velvet box. He’d seen it three years ago while cleaning the study—the pearls glowing faintly pink under the moonlight, like frozen teardrops.
"I never—"
"Liar!" Sophia's voice cracked. "Who else could have gone into my study?" She lowered her voice, each word dripping venom. "If it isn’t found, you’ll never see the people in that photo again."
Moonlight traced the rigid line of Ethan's jaw. He looked at the mother and daughter before him, their faces twisted beyond recognition, and let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
Three days. He counted again in his mind. Just three more days.