Ethan’s face tightened.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because every time I reached for the phone, I remembered begging you for something as simple as honesty.”
“I wasn’t honest that night.”
“No.”
“I was terrified.”
Harper studied him.
Ethan forced himself to continue.
“My father taught me that dependence was weakness.
That if someone mattered enough to hurt you, you either controlled the relationship or ended it before they could.”
Harper’s mouth flattened.
“And you chose to hurt me first.”
“Yes.”
The word came without excuse.
“I told myself I was protecting what I built.
What I was protecting was my ability to never be vulnerable.”
“And that cost you fifteen months.”
Ethan looked toward his son.
“More than that.”
Harper did not soften.
Good, Ethan thought.
She shouldn’t.
His phone began vibrating in his pocket.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
The board meeting.
His assistant.
Security.
Probably half his executive team trying to understand why the man who never canceled anything had vanished in the middle of a major contract.
Ethan removed the phone.
Harper watched him.
For years, people around Ethan had learned that the device in his hand could end jobs, move markets, approve eight-figure transfers, or make entire rooms wait.
He powered it off.
Then placed it face down on the windowsill.
Harper’s eyes flicked toward it.
“That doesn’t impress me.”
“It wasn’t supposed to.”
“Good.”
“I’m staying until you tell me to leave.”
“I might.”
“I know.”
Another silence passed.
The baby began fussing.
Harper tried shifting him while protecting her injured wrist, and Ethan saw pain flash across her face.
His whole body reacted forward.
He stopped himself after half a step.
“Can I help?”
“No.”
He stopped.
A few seconds later, Harper winced again.
Ethan remained exactly where he was.
That restraint seemed to matter more than any speech.
Finally Harper looked at him.
“Sit closer.”
He did.
