The operating room buzzed with urgency.
Adrian's hands moved fast—steady, precise. He barely glanced at the monitors; instinct had already taken over. Years of surgeries had made him immune to chaos. But this boy…
Something was different.
The moment he'd entered the room, his heart had skipped a beat. Not from panic—but from recognition. The child lying unconscious before him could've passed for a younger version of himself.
Same tousled hair. Same mouth. Same eyes.
"Vitals stabilizing," the nurse confirmed, breaking the tension. "We've stopped the bleeding."
Adrian exhaled, but his mind remained tangled in disbelief. As they wheeled the boy to recovery, he followed silently, thoughts racing faster than his steps.
---
Outside the hospital room, Adrian stood behind the glass, watching the boy breathe. Each rise and fall of that small chest made something tighten in his own.
"What's his name?" he asked the nurse beside him.
"Ethan."
The name hit harder than it should have. Simple. Strong.
"He didn't come in with parents," the nurse added. "Just a driver. Said the mother was stuck in a meeting."
Adrian's jaw tensed.
Some rich woman—too busy to show up for her injured child.
He didn't know why that infuriated him so much.
Or maybe he did.
Because five years ago, she had done the same.
He turned away.
---
Meanwhile, in a sleek black car weaving through Manhattan traffic, Sophia Carter sat rigid in the backseat. Her hands trembled in her lap, though her face remained an unreadable mask.
Ethan is in the hospital.
Her assistant's voice still echoed in her ears. "Minor internal bleeding, ma'am. Dr. Adrian Blake handled the surgery."
Her heart had stopped.
Adrian. Of all the doctors in New York.
She hadn't seen him in five years—not since she signed those divorce papers with hands as cold as her fury.
Now… fate had dragged her past back to the surface.
Adrian had seen Ethan.
Their son.
And she wasn't ready for what came next.
Not yet.