Chapter 3 - The Heir
Alistair looked toward the wooden door where the boy had disappeared.
“You were pregnant.”
“I found out two days after I arrived in Maine,” she said.
“You stole my son from me.”
Cecilia’s eyes darkened.
“I saved my son from you.”
Alistair clenched his fists.
“I can give him everything. The company. The estate. The world.”
“He doesn’t need the world,” Cecilia said. “He needs a father who knows how to be present without a camera crew. He has that here.”
Alistair frowned. “What do you mean?”
The bell above the shop door chimed again.
A man walked in.
He wasn’t wearing a custom Italian suit.
He wore a flannel shirt, work boots, and carried a small, hand-carved wooden toy boat.
He looked at Cecilia, his eyes softening instantly.
Then he looked at Alistair.
“Everything okay, Cee?” the man asked, stepping protectively to her side.
May you like
Cecilia didn’t flinch.
“Yes, David,” she said. “Just an old acquaintance passing through.”
