Chapter 172 Jack is Yours
Six o'clock. Rush hour.
Ethan Bennett sat in his black Maybach half a block from Olivia's apartment complex, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Smoke curled past his face as he watched the sidewalk teem with life—young couples, families, all that ordinary happiness he'd never have.
He imagined her walking out. That careful stride, the way she'd glance around, wary. Would she remember the afternoons he used to pick her up from UCLA? The way she'd run to him, bury her face in his chest?
"Didn't I tell you to park farther away?"
He waited. Watched the sun sink, streetlights flicker on, families come and go.
But Olivia never appeared.
He laughed once—low, bitter.
His phone buzzed. Commissioner Prescott.
"Sir. My apologies for stepping away earlier." He listened. "Yes, I'll head over now. No need to wait."
He hung up. Opened his contacts. Scrolled to the newest entry.
His thumb hovered over her name. One slip and he'd hear her voice again.
The screen lit up. Calling Olivia Reed...
Fuck. He jabbed the end button, heart hammering.
---
Jack's fever broke on the third day.
Olivia had taken five days off work—three sick days plus the weekend—to stay home with him.
By Monday morning, his cheeks had color again. His appetite returned. He bounced on the couch, begging to go back to school.
"Are you sure you're ready?" Olivia asked, crouching in front of him, smoothing his hair back. "We can stay home another day if you need to."
"I'm better, Mommy." He threw his arms around her neck. "I wanna see my friends."
So she walked him to the preschool, watched him skip through the doors without a backward glance.
Then she headed to work.
---
The flowers started arriving that same day.
Ninety-nine pink roses. Long-stemmed, perfect, arranged in a crystal vase.
She was at her desk early, sorting through emails, when the delivery guy appeared in the doorway. "Olivia Reed?"
She looked up. Blinked. "Yes?"
He set the vase down on her desk with a grunt. "Sign here."
She scrawled her signature, staring at the roses. "Who sent these?"
He shrugged. "Online order. No name on the card."
"Can you tell me the phone number of whoever placed the order?"
"Sorry, ma'am. Company policy. We don't share customer contact info."
Olivia's stomach twisted. "Right. Thanks."
The next day, more flowers arrived. White lilies this time. Then tulips. Then orchids. Each bouquet more elaborate than the last, each one anonymous.
---
Friday afternoon, Olivia joined Frank's team on a location scout upstate. Heavy traffic delayed their return, forcing her to call Helen Morrison to pick up Jack from preschool.
They didn't get back to the city until six-twenty. Olivia didn't even stop at her apartment. Just grabbed her bag, thanked Frank, and practically ran across the courtyard to Helen's building.
Olivia stepped inside—and froze.
Ethan Bennett sat on the loveseat across from the door, charcoal suit, no tie, perfectly at ease. His cold eyes lifted to meet hers. Vincent Crawford lounged on the sofa beside Max Morrison, and on the floor near the coffee table, Jackson Hayes crouched beside Jack, building a tower out of wooden blocks.
"They're all friends of Max's," Helen said brightly, pulling Olivia further into the room. She gestured toward her. "This is Liv. Jack's mom."
Ethan didn't move. Didn't smile. Just gave her the barest nod.
Jack spotted her and scrambled to his feet, running over to grab her hand. "Mommy! Look!" He pointed at Jackson. "They said I look like this uncle!"
She smoothed his hair back, kissed his forehead, then straightened and looked directly at Jackson. "Can I talk to you outside?"
The room went very still.
Vincent's hand froze halfway to his teacup. Water sloshed over the rim, soaking into his pants. He swore under his breath.
Jackson glanced at Ethan, uncertainty flickering across his face. "Uh—"
"Go." Ethan's voice was flat, emotionless.
Olivia turned back to Jack, crouching down to his level. "Mommy needs to talk to the uncle for a minute, okay? You stay here with Grandma Helen and play. I'll be right back."
"Okay, Mommy." He threw his arms around her neck, squeezing tight. Then he pulled back and looked past her, his face lighting up. "I'll play with Mr. Ethan!"
Olivia glanced over her shoulder.
She stood quickly, turning back to Jack. "You can play with Grandma Helen, or Uncle Max, or Uncle Vincent—"
But Jack was already toddling toward Ethan, his little legs carrying him across the room at full speed. "Mr. Ethan!"
Ethan reached down and lifted him onto his lap in one smooth motion. His large hand settled on Jack's head, fingers gentle as he ruffled the boy's hair. "Good boy," he murmured.
The smile that curved his mouth was real. Soft. Almost tender.
Olivia stared at them, her chest tight, her mind blank.
She swallowed the knot in her throat and turned away. "I'll be outside."
---
They walked to a corner of the courtyard near the banana plants. Jackson leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. "What's up?"
Olivia took a breath. "Jack's birth mother didn't want to disrupt your life. But since you're here, you deserve to know the truth."
She met his eyes. "Jack is your son."
Jackson stared at her. Then laughed—short, disbelieving. "That's not possible."
"I'm not trying to scam you. We can do a DNA test if you want proof."
His jaw tightened. "Okay. Fine. Tomorrow."
He said it too easily. Like he was humoring her.
"Jack's mother's name was Eva Reed," she said. "Same last name as me. We met in Amsterdam when I was studying there. She was pregnant when I arrived—about six months along. We became close. Like sisters."
Jackson's expression shifted. Something guarded crept into his eyes.
"She died of cancer when Jack was a year and a half old," Olivia continued, her voice steady despite the tightness in her throat. "Before she passed, she was going to put him in an orphanage. She didn't have family. No support system. I couldn't let that happen. So I adopted him."
Jackson said nothing.
"Eva went to the same schools as you," Olivia said. "Middle school, high school, college. She was two years younger. She had a crush on you for ten years. You probably never even noticed her."
His face went very still.
"Five years ago, there was an alumni event at your college. She attended. After the reception ended..." Olivia trailed off, letting him fill in the blanks. "That night, you two were together. Just once. That's all it took."
Jackson's throat worked. He remembered that night—the alumni reception, too many drinks, waking up alone in a hotel room. A woman whose face he couldn't recall.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.
Finally, Olivia cleared her throat. "If the DNA test confirms Jack is yours, I expect reimbursement for the costs of raising him. But you can't take him home." She paused. "I'm sure you wouldn't want your mother finding out about this either."