Chapter 194

The last thing Evelyn Sinclair anticipated was Ethan Blackwood crashing into her embrace, calling her "Mom."

The little boy must have been utterly terrified and vulnerable.

He buried his small frame deep against her, clinging desperately as if she were his only lifeline. His tiny hands gripped her sweater with white-knuckled intensity, eyes squeezed shut against some unseen horror.

Evelyn's heart constricted painfully at the sheer distress radiating from the child. It had been years since she'd felt such a visceral pang of maternal protectiveness surge through her.

Gently, she stroked Ethan's soft hair, murmuring soothing words. "Shh, it's okay now, sweetheart. You're safe."

As her comforting voice wrapped around him, Evelyn watched the tension gradually leave Ethan's small body.

"Is Ethan okay, Mommy?" Amelia approached, her innocent blue eyes wide with concern.

"He'll be fine, darling." Evelyn forced a smile. "Why don't you share those cookies I baked with him?"

"Okay!" Amelia extended a chubby hand toward Ethan. "Come on! Mommy's cookies are the best in the whole world!"

At this invitation, Ethan seemed to snap back to reality.

His long lashes fluttered open, revealing bewildered hazel eyes that slowly focused on Evelyn's face. A flush of embarrassment crept across his porcelain cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, the words striking a familiar chord in Evelyn's memory.

She cupped his face tenderly. "Whatever for, sweet boy? You've done nothing wrong."

A fleeting shadow of longing crossed Ethan's expression as he absorbed Evelyn's gentle smile. The way he looked at her spoke volumes about what he lacked at home.

Evelyn exhaled in quiet relief when Ethan's breathing steadied.

Warmth filled her chest as she watched the two children sitting side by side, nibbling on chocolate chip cookies. Her heart swelled particularly when Ethan carefully wiped a crumb from Amelia's cheek.

The tender gesture reopened old wounds, reminding her sharply of the child she'd lost.

When Amelia scampered off to the bathroom, Evelyn seized the moment. "Ethan, darling," she began carefully, "how does your mother usually treat you?"

The boy froze mid-bite, the light in his eyes dimming like a snuffed candle.

His silence was answer enough.

Three years ago, she'd witnessed Victoria Lancaster coldly pressing a knife to Ethan's cheek without flinching at his terrified sobs. That image still haunted Evelyn's nightmares.

What kind of monster used her own child as leverage for wealth and status?

What horrors had this innocent boy endured to make him seek comfort in a stranger's arms? Had Alexander truly been so blind to his son's suffering?

Seeing Ethan's discomfort, Evelyn changed tactics, ruffling his silky hair. "You think I look like someone named Maddie, don't you?"

Ethan's gaze snapped up, intense and searching, before nodding slowly. "At first I thought you were her."

Evelyn's smile turned bittersweet. "What if I told you I am Maddie? I imagine your mother told you terrible things about her. That Maddie hurt you."

Ethan's expression darkened with unexpected ferocity. He shook his head vehemently.

"Maddie would never hurt me," he declared with absolute conviction, his small jaw set stubbornly. "Never."

The vehemence in his voice sent an unexpected wave of emotion crashing through Evelyn's carefully constructed walls.