Chapter 119 He Looks Exactly Like Me
"Walk slow, Elias," I cautioned, keeping a firm hold on his small hand.
I looked down through the glass barrier. The main atrium bustled with activity fifty feet below us. Doctors in white coats walked past executives in tailored suits. The Sterling Medical Center relied on major corporate donations. Board members and wealthy benefactors frequented the main lobby to tour the facilities and protect their public relations investments.
My eyes scanned the crowd below.
A group of five men stood near a decorative fountain in the center of the atrium. They wore expensive, dark suits. They held sleek leather folders. They looked like an executive board conducting a site visit.
One man stood apart from the rest.
He wore a charcoal suit. He lacked an overcoat. He stood with his back rigid, his posture projecting an aura of absolute, unapproachable authority. The men around him spoke in animated gestures, but he did not engage. He stared at the marble floor, completely disconnected from the conversation.
Tristan.
My heart stalled. The breath trapped itself in my throat.
He looked worse than he did in the underground garage. The harsh, natural sunlight from the skylights exposed the deep lines of exhaustion carved into his face. His skin looked pale and drawn. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a sheer drop, waiting for the ground to crumble.
He was supposed to be at the Johnston Group headquarters. He was supposed to be managing the fallout of his ruined engagement. Instead, he stood in the lobby of a hospital his family funded, performing a duty for his grandmother while his mind fell apart.
I froze on the glass walkway.
"Miss Hayes?" Marcus asked. He noticed my sudden halt. He followed my line of sight down to the atrium. He saw the Johnston CEO.
"Keep moving," I ordered. My voice sounded thin and strained. I tightened my grip on Elias's hand. "Do not look down. Do not draw attention."
We started walking again. My heels clicked against the glass floor. Every step felt loud. Every breath felt like inhaling broken glass. We just needed to reach the frosted double doors at the end of the mezzanine. We just needed ten seconds.
Elias swung his blue stuffed wolf in the air. He laughed, a bright, clear sound that echoed in the open architecture of the building.
Down in the atrium, the sound drifted through the air.
Tristan Johnston raised his head. He looked up.
He looked directly at the glass mezzanine.
I saw the exact second his eyes locked onto us. I saw the movement of his head stop. I saw his entire body go completely rigid.
He did not see me first. He saw the boy.
Elias stopped walking. He pressed his free hand against the clear glass barrier. He looked down at the people in the lobby. The afternoon sunlight hit my son’s face, illuminating his pale skin, his dark curling hair, and his bright, wide eyes.
Tristan stared at the child.
The distance between them was fifty feet.
I watched the invincible billionaire break.
The leather folder slipped from Tristan’s grip. It hit the marble floor, spilling printed documents across the ground. The men around him stopped talking. They looked at the spilled papers, then looked at their CEO.
Tristan ignored them. He did not blink. He did not breathe.
He looked at Elias, and he saw his own face staring back at him. He saw the exact shape of his own jawline. He saw the distinct curve of his own brow.
And he saw the eyes. The unmistakable, piercing steel-gray eyes of the Johnston bloodline.
Tristan’s mouth parted. A visible tremor shook his broad shoulders. He looked like a man who spent his entire life wandering through a desert, only to find an ocean he was never allowed to touch. The absolute devastation and the pure, overwhelming awe on his face stripped away every layer of his corporate armor.
He found his son.
I reacted on terror.
I bent down and scooped Elias into my arms. I pressed his face into the collar of my blazer, hiding him from the view of the atrium.
The sudden movement snapped Tristan out of his trance.
His eyes shifted from the space where Elias stood. His gaze locked onto my face.
I stared back at him. I held his gray eyes from fifty feet away. I did not hide the fierce rage burning in my chest. I held his son tight against my heart.
Tristan read the look on my face. He saw the confirmation. I did not need to speak a single word. The truth was out in the open air.
A desperate energy flooded his posture. The shock morphed into action.
He pushed past the confused hospital executives. He ignored their shouts.
Tristan Johnston broke into a run. He sprinted across the marble lobby, his eyes fixed on the glass mezzanine.
He headed straight for the stairs.