Chapter 4 - The Boy In The Park
Lincoln Park was bathed in crisp autumn sunlight. Red and golden leaves danced along the pathways as mothers and nannies pushed strollers past the pond.
Vivienne sat on a wooden bench, wearing an oversized cashmere coat and dark sunglasses, watching Leo chase a pair of mallards across the grass. Two plainclothes bodyguards lingered discreetly ten yards away.
""Leo, sweetheart, don't get your boots muddy!"" Vivienne called out gently.
""I caught one, Mommy! Almost!"" the boy giggled, turning around with a bright, triumphant smile before tripping over an exposed tree root.
He tumbled onto the soft grass, letting out a startled whimper. Before Vivienne could stand up, a man stepped out from behind the weeping willows and caught the boy gently under the arms, lifting him back to his feet.
""Careful there, little man,"" Vincent said softly, kneeling down on one knee in the dirt so he was at eye level with the child.
Leo sniffled, blinking his large, luminous eyes. He didn't cry. Instead, he looked at Vincent with curious fascination, reaching out a tiny, sticky hand to touch the dark lapel of Vincent’s coat. ""You're the tall man from the party.""
Vincent’s chest tightened so violently he could barely breathe. Up close, the child’s features were an undeniable mirror of his own boyhood photographs: the slight cleft in the chin, the shape of the eyebrows, the deep hazel-brown eyes. This was his blood. The child he thought had been turned to ash inside his mother’s womb.
""Yes, I am,"" Vincent murmured, fighting back a wave of overwhelming tears. ""Are you hurt, Leo?""
""My knee has grass,"" Leo pointed down solemnly.
""Let's brush it off then,"" Vincent said, his rough hands brushing the dirt from the toddler's trousers with infinite tenderness.
""Get your hands off my son!""
Vivienne’s voice cracked like a whip. She arrived before him in an instant, yanking Leo behind her back while her two bodyguards rushed in, their hands tucked inside their jackets, reaching for concealed firearms.
Vincent slowly raised his hands, remaining on his knees. ""I'm not here to fight, Anna. I just caught him before he fell.""
Vivienne picked up Leo, holding him tightly against her chest. ""His name is Leo Vance. And my name is Vivienne. If you ever come within ten feet of him again, I will have my security put a bullet in your shoulder.""
""He has my chin, Anna,"" Vincent said, standing up slowly, his eyes locked onto hers with devastating vulnerability. ""He has my eyes. He has the Moretti family birthmark on his right forearm, doesn't he? The small triangular mark right below the wrist. I saw it when he touched my coat.""
Vivienne’s breath caught for half a second before she masked it with a sneer. ""Birthmarks are coincidences, Mr. Moretti.""
""I ran the manifest,"" Vincent stepped forward, ignoring the bodyguards who drew their weapons. ""Julian Vance picked you up in the snow. You survived the crash. You took my son across the Atlantic and hid him from his father!""
""Father?"" Vivienne laughed, and the sheer venom in her tone felt like a physical blow. ""What father? The man who promised his pregnant wife he would come back for her, only to leave her locked in a metal coffin while he held hands with his mistress?""
The park seemed to freeze around them. The ducks in the pond, the rustling wind, the laughter of distant children—all of it faded into the harsh, brutal truth of her words.
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""You remember,"" Vincent whispered, his heart breaking open. ""You are my Anna.""
""Anna Bennett died in that jet,"" she hissed, tears of burning rage finally leaking past her dark sunglasses. ""She died the exact second you walked out that emergency door with Sophia Carter. The woman standing before you owes you nothing. She doesn't owe you an explanation, she doesn't owe you forgiveness, and she will never, ever give you this boy.""
