Chapter 20
Ethan knocked heavily on the solid oak front door of the cabin, the sound echoing through the quiet pine forest.
Footsteps shuffled slowly from inside, and the door creaked open to reveal an elderly man with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses.
Dr. Richard Hayes looked at Ethan, his eyes instantly widening with intense, immediate recognition.
"You look just like her," Dr. Hayes whispered, his voice trembling with age and long-buried guilt.
"I knew someone would come for the boy eventually."
"Where is Oliver, Dr. Hayes?" Ethan demanded, stepping across the threshold into the dimly lit cabin living room.
Dr. Hayes let out a long, weary sigh, walking over to a wooden desk near the stone hearth.
He picked up a small silver framed photograph and held it out toward Ethan with shaking hands.
Ethan took the photograph, his breath catching in his throat as he looked down at the image inside the frame.
A handsome seven-year-old boy with messy brown hair and pale skin was smiling brightly alongside a woman standing in a garden.
The boy possessed the exact same striking brown eyes and facial structure as six-year-old Lily.
"Clara placed him with a private foster family in London six years ago under an assumed identity," Dr. Hayes explained softly.
"She knew that if the Vance family discovered there was a male heir to the Sterling estate, his life wouldn't be worth a dime."
Ethan stared at the photograph, feeling a powerful mixture of profound love, shock, and fierce determination sweep through his soul.
Suddenly, Marcus stepped through the front door of the cabin, holding a satellite phone to his ear with a pale face.
"Ethan, you need to hear this right now," Marcus warned, his voice tight with sudden, intense alarm.
"The federal correctional facility in Connecticut just called the U.S. Attorney's office."
"Victoria's mother, Eleanor, suffered a sudden medical emergency during transfer and has disappeared from custody."
Ethan looked up from the photograph, his green eyes hardening into steel as the mountain rain lashed against the cabin windows.
The war to protect his family was far from over—it was expanding across the Atlantic Ocean.
He held the photograph of his lost son tightly in his hand, looking out into the misty forest horizon.
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"Get the jet ready, Marcus," Ethan ordered in a low, unwavering voice that carried total authority.
"We are going to London."
