Chapter 2 - THE WEIGHT OF A BILLIONAIRE’S GAZE
Ethan stopped two steps above Rosa and crouched down, bringing himself to eye level with three-year-old Lily. The air in the foyer felt impossibly heavy. Mr. Patel stood frozen near the flower table, holding his breath, while Natalie hovered awkwardly on the landing, her hands clenched into tight fists inside her pockets.
“Lily,” Ethan said softly, his deep voice carrying a strange gentleness that Rosa had never heard him use with anyone else. “Can I see what you found?”
Lily slowly pulled her head away from Rosa’s shoulder. She looked at Ethan with those huge, solemn brown eyes. Without a word, she opened her small palm. Resting in the center of her chubby hand was the shiny gold button she had picked up from the floor.
Ethan reached out and took the button. As his fingers brushed against hers, a strange jolt seemed to pass through him. He turned the button over in his hand, inspecting the intricate crest engraved on the back—a crest that belonged exclusively to the Harmon family vault, a family heirloom that had been missing for over three decades.
His jaw tightened. His eyes flicked from the button to Lily’s face, tracing the shape of her brow, the curve of her nose, and the peculiar, arresting amber flecks hidden deep within her brown irises. It was a gaze he had looked at in the mirror every single morning of his life.
“Where did you find this, sweetheart?” Ethan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“By the big door,” Lily piped up, her voice small and sweet. “It was shining.”
Ethan stood up slowly, the gold button clutched tightly in his fist. He turned to face Natalie, whose face had gone completely bloodless.
“Ethan, darling,” Natalie forced a nervous laugh, stepping forward. “The child is a nuisance. You can't possibly keep staff members bringing their toddlers to work. It’s unprofessional, and frankly, I won't have it when we're trying to plan our wedding here.”
“This house,” Ethan said, his voice dangerously quiet, “belongs to the Harmons, Natalie. Every brick, every painting, and every rule.”
“Exactly!” Natalie beamed, misunderstanding him. “So let Rosa pack her bags—”
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“No,” Ethan interrupted, his eyes locking onto hers with a chilling intensity. “Rosa stays. And you, Natalie, are going to explain why you are screaming at children in a home you do not yet own.”
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