Chapter 377
[ 454 words ]
Chapter 377:
Outside, the summer sun blazed brightly, but inside, I felt completely frozen.
All I could do was repeat the same prayer. “Please, keep Silas safe. Please.”
Ethan’s POV
A dull, grinding ache from the hangover still pressed behind my eyes, like something trying to split my skull open from the inside.
I had just dragged myself out of bed, planning to take a cold shower to settle my alcohol-sick stomach, when my phone began buzzing frantically on the nightstand.
𝖱𝖾𝘤o𝘮𝗆еո𝘥 𝘨a𝗹no𝘃𝘦𝗅𝘀.𝘤o𝘮 𝗍o 𝘺o𝘂𝗿 𝗳r𝗶еոd𝗌
The call was from Jeremy. The moment I answered, his voice came through in a rush. “Ethan! Get to the office now. That kid’s here, he’s in the lobby!”
My grip tightened instantly. I didn’t even reply. I ended the call, grabbed the nearest shirt, and rushed toward the door.
By the time I reached the Voss Group headquarters, my heart was already beating out of rhythm. Something in my blood, something buried and unfamiliar, kept stirring with every mile closer. Like instinct. Like recognition.
The tires screeched as I pulled up.
I pushed open the car door and got out, then hurried into the building.
The moment I stepped inside, I froze.
In the seating area by the picture windows, a small boy in a black hoodie sat on the sofa, casually swinging his legs.
He held a tablet in his hands, his fingers moving quickly across the screen.
At the sound of my footsteps, he looked up.
For a moment, everything inside me stalled. It wasn’t just a resemblance. It was me. Not a faint similarity. Not a coincidence. It was like looking at a smaller version of myself pulled from another timeline.
Same eyes. Same nose. Same cold, unbothered expression that shouldn’t belong to a child.
My pupils shrank, my thoughts scattered, and I found myself questioning if I was still under the influence of all that alcohol from last night.
I was still standing there in a daze when Jeremy patted my shoulder and pulled me back to reality. I forced my rigid legs forward, inching toward the boy.
I hadn’t made up my mind yet whether my first words should be an accusation or an inquiry.
However, the boy spoke first.
He shut off the tablet and looked me up and down with a searching gaze. “You must be Ethan Voss.” His voice was small, but it carried a sense of steadiness far beyond his years.
“Yes,” I replied, my voice rougher than I intended.
He frowned slightly, as if I were already disappointing him. “I’m Silas. My mother was right. Scumbags really do have a way of being handsome.”
I froze again. Scumbag?
I had spent thirty years commanding respect in the business world and wielding absolute authority over my territory, only to be openly called a “scumbag” by a child who wasn’t even three years old.
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