Chapter 4 - The Aftermath of a Ghost
The rest of the ceremony passed in a surreal, suffocating blur.
I held onto Noah’s arm as if letting go would cause the entire room to shatter into pieces.
As soon as the final applause faded, I practically dragged my son toward the heavy velvet curtains near the backstage exit.
I needed to get out of that building before the ghost of my past could catch his breath.
"Mom, what’s the rush?" Noah asked, his brow furrowing in confusion as we hurried down a long, dimly lit corridor.
"We need to celebrate, we promised to get dinner near the square."
I swallowed the panic rising in my throat and forced a tight, unconvincing smile.
"I just have a terrible headache, sweetheart, the lights were too bright."
Before Noah could reply, a deep, commanding voice echoed sharply down the marble hallway.
"Claire!"
My blood turned to absolute ice.
I stopped walking, but I did not turn around.
Heavy, rapid footsteps closed the distance between us, echoing like thunder in the empty corridor.
"Claire, look at me," Vincent demanded, his voice thick with a chaotic mixture of rage, disbelief, and agonizing grief.
I slowly turned around, pulling Noah slightly behind my shoulder in a protective, maternal instinct.
Vincent stopped five feet away, chest heaving beneath his expensive tailored suit.
He looked older, the silver at his temples adding a distinguished edge to his rugged face, but his eyes were exactly the same piercing blue as the boy standing behind me.
He stared at Noah, his gaze drinking in the broad shoulders, the dark hair, and the sharp jawline.
Noah stepped out from behind me, pulling his shoulders back defensively as he analyzed the strange man blocking our path.
"Can we help you, sir?" Noah asked firmly, unaware that he was speaking to his own flesh and blood.
Vincent let out a broken, breathless sound that sounded halfway between a laugh and a sob.
"Sir," Vincent repeated softly, the word seeming to physically wound him.
Before Vincent could say another word, the click of expensive heels echoed from the other end of the hall.
Sophia rushed toward us, her face flushed red, frantically trying to pull Vincent away by his arm.
"Vincent, darling, the press is waiting outside for Ethan’s photo, we need to leave immediately," she said, her voice high and trembling with suppressed panic.
Vincent violently yanked his arm out of her grasp without breaking eye contact with me.
"You lied to me," Vincent whispered to me, ignoring Sophia entirely.
"You looked me in the eye, signed those papers, and walked away carrying my child."
Noah’s entire body went rigid.
He looked at me, his brilliant mind rapidly processing the mathematical impossibility of my previous lies, the resemblance, and the timeline.
"Mom?" Noah asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy whisper.
"Who is this man?"
I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, praying for strength, before opening them to face the billionaire I once loved.
"This is Vincent Moretti," I said clearly, my voice echoing off the marble walls.
"He is the man who chose another family over ours."
Vincent stepped forward, his eyes burning with furious intensity.
"I didn't choose to abandon my own flesh and blood, Claire! You stole my right to be a father!"
"You lost that right the day you brought your mistress into our home and paraded her bastard son as your heir!" I shot back, the eighteen years of suppressed rage finally boiling over.
Sophia gasped loudly, stepping in front of Vincent like a shield.
"Don't you dare speak to us like that, you ungrateful wretch!" Sophia hissed.
"Vincent has been financially supporting your pathetic life for almost two decades!"
I froze, the anger draining from my face as sheer confusion took over.
"Supporting me?" I repeated, my voice dropping to a confused whisper.
"I have worked double shifts at a diner for fifteen years just to buy my son second-hand textbooks."
Vincent’s furious expression faltered, a deep frown carving lines into his forehead.
"What are you talking about?" Vincent demanded. "The trust fund has disbursed twenty thousand dollars a month since the day you left."
I stared at him, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
"I haven't seen a single penny of your money, Vincent."
May you like
I looked at Sophia, and the absolute terror in her eyes gave me the answer before she could even speak.
The air in the hallway grew thick, suffocating, as Vincent slowly turned his head to look at his current wife.
