"Ethan, can you come home, dear?" Margaret's voice came softly through the phone.
Ethan, buried in work at his office, frowned slightly. "Is this about your health, Mom?"
There was a pause.
"No, Ethan… it's something important."
His shoulders eased. His mother's health had always been fragile—her weak heart often landed her in hospitals. In fact, it was Maya who had once been her personal doctor, the one who stayed through every long night, who healed Margaret with her care… after everything fell apart. After the divorce.
Though Ethan had drifted away from his mother—blaming her for the wedge between him and Maya—he couldn't forget the debt he owed her. Or the love he still carried under his anger.
"Alright. I'll come tomorrow morning."
---
The next day, the familiar scent of the Cole mansion welcomed him—lavender and old wood, with hints of his childhood. It was too quiet. Too still.
Margaret sat in the sunroom, a shawl around her shoulders. Her eyes lit up when she saw him.
"Ethan, you're here, dear."
He nodded, placing his briefcase down. "How's your health, Mom?"
"I'm fine, as you can see." She smiled, though there was a hesitance behind it.
A heavy silence followed.
Ethan finally broke it, voice low but even. "You said you had something important to say?"
Margaret hesitated, twisting her fingers together. "Ah… yes. I do…"
He waited.
"It's about Maya," she finally said. "She's here, Ethan. I saw her yesterday… at the boutique district."
Ethan didn't flinch, didn't blink. He stared ahead blankly.
"She… she wasn't alone," Margaret continued carefully, observing his face. "She had a child with her. A little boy. She looked happy. I think she's moved on."
Still, no response.
"Ethan?" she whispered.
He finally turned toward her, expression unreadable. "Is this what you called me for?"
Margaret felt her heart drop. "No… I just thought, it's been years since the divorce. You're successful, respected. Isn't it time you thought about… getting married again?"
Silence lingered between them.
"I'll marry when I think it's time, Mom. You don't need to worry," he said, standing. "And I won't be back this week. I have a pile of work waiting."
Without waiting for her reply, he left.
Margaret sat there, sighing deeply. She could see it clearly—even now, after everything, her son's heart hadn't let go of Maya.
---
A Week Later....At Award Ceremony Evening
The venue buzzed with flashes of cameras, glittering dresses, and the clinking of champagne glasses. Celebrities, CEOs, and media circled the grand hall like moths around a flame.
And when Maya Sinclair stepped into the room, all eyes turned.
Dressed in an elegant, dark green silk gown with intricate embroidery, her presence commanded attention. Strong. Poised. Beautiful. Every step she took was filled with quiet power. She held her head high, her face serene, though her mind was far from calm.
Noah was not with her tonight.
She had left him safely in their hotel room under the watchful eye of Dane, who had insisted on taking care of the boy so she could attend without worry. It wasn't easy leaving Noah behind—he had clung to her a little longer than usual, asking if he could come too. But she had kissed his forehead and promised to tell him everything when she returned.
So she walked alone—but with all the strength of a mother who had built herself from the ground up.
Whispers floated through the crowd.
"Is that… Maya Sinclair?"
"She's even more stunning in person."
"That dress… It's perfect for her."
Their arrival might have stunned the crowd if she hadn't already taken the breath out of the room on her own.
Then, a hush fell over the hall.
Someone whispered near the back of the crowd. "It seems Mr. Ethan Cole is entering now."
Maya froze.
The voice echoed in her head like a bell, and her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her dress. She didn't look. She couldn't look.
But everyone else turned.
And there he was.
Ethan Cole walked in, dressed in sharp black. Tall. Regal. Charismatic as ever. His cold aura kept people at a distance, but his presence drew eyes like gravity itself. The cameras clicked endlessly.
He didn't smile. He scanned the room briefly, almost like searching for something.
Maya's gaze remained fixed on the stage. Her pulse quickened.
Why now? she wondered silently. Why him? Why here?
But she forced herself to breathe.
Tonight wasn't about the past. It was about her. About everything she had built. About the journey she had walked alone… for herself and for Noah.
She wouldn't let a glance from the past shake the foundation of her present.