When My Ex Begged Forgiveness, I Was Buying His Company Chapter 07
A few days later, Jamie laid updates on Howard Group across my lap.
Ethan hadn’t managed more than two hours of broken sleep in three days, dark circles etched deep beneath bloodshot eyes. His office ashtray overflowed with crushed cigarette butts.
“Sir, there’s still no word of Mrs. Howard,” his assistant stammered, standing rigid before the
mahogany desk. “We’ve canvassed every private clinic across New York, even underground unlicensed
medical facilities–no one’s laid eyes on her.”
Ethan’s fingers, clamped around a lit cigarette, stiffened mid–draw.
“Keep searching. I don’t care what it takes.” He crushed the cigarette butt into the tray with violent agitation.
“What’s that envelope you’re clutching?” He nodded at the brown kraft folder in the assistant’s grasp.
“An expedited same–day courier delivered this to the lobby reception this morning. Sender’s Jamie.”
Ethan snatched the packet and tore the seal open in one violent motion.
Only a single thin sheet of paper rested inside: an official fetal–tissue DNA paternity test report.
His eyes raced past dense medical jargon straight to the final conclusion line: Probability of Paternity
between Ethan Howard and the fetus: 99.99%.
The only sound filling the silent executive office was the low hum of central air conditioning. He stared
frozen at those two numbers, his mind going completely blank for a full thirty seconds.
“That can’t be right,” he muttered, throat raw and parched. “This report’s a forgery.”
He shot abruptly to his feet, the force of his movement
sending his leather executive chair crashing backward onto the marble floor.
He grabbed the landline receiver, fingers shaking as he
dialed the lab director’s direct extension. “Who authorized this test result?”
The lab director’s voice trembled on the other end of
the line. “Mr. Howard, the fetal tissue sample was secured during Mrs. Howard’s emergency surgery by a
nurse on our trusted team. The entire chain of custody
was fully documented and confidential–there is zero possibility of falsification.”
The telephone handset slipped from Ethan’s grip, clattering hard against his desk surface.
In that crushing instant, he comprehended the full magnitude of his catastrophic mistake.
He’d driven his own unborn child to death with his paranoia. And with his cold, cruel suspicion, he’d
chased away the woman who’d once planned a lifetime by his side.
Ethan slammed his fist full force into the floor–to–ceiling tempered glass window. Skin split
open instantly across his knuckles, fresh blood streaking slowly down the clear pane.
“Bring the car around. Drive me to the detention center.”
Half an hour later, Ethan sat in the prison visitation room. Ava sat across from him on the other side of a scratched plexiglass partition, clad in a standard orange inmate jumpsuit.
“Mr. Howard, you’ve finally come to see me.” Ava retained her icy, rational composure.
“Were those toxic oleander plants your doing, placed in the greenhouse?” Ethan’s tone held no inflection whatsoever.
“I did it,” she admitted plainly. “I was only looking out for you. You’d spent years convinced that baby belonged to Silas, after all. That child would’ve been a permanent thorn stuck in your side.”
Ethan stared at her before bursting into loud, bitter. laughter. The sound echoed hollow and haunting through the empty visitation chamber.
“You think you understand what I wanted?” His laughter cut off sharp, his gaze turning black as tar and laced with venom. “I’ll make certain your time behind bars is agony beyond endurance.”
He stood without another word and strode out of the room, never glancing back.