Chapter 5 - THE CORNER DINERThe diner was mostly empty at nine in the morning, smelling faintly of fried hash browns and old coffee. Ethan sat in a cracked vinyl booth near the back, his untouched cup of black coffee cooling before him.
The bell above the front door chimed.
Maya walked in. She looked older, wiser, and infinitely more dangerous than the heartbroken woman who had signed the divorce papers three years ago. She wore no makeup, her hair pulled back into a practical clip, but her posture was rigid, defensive, and armored with quiet fury.
She didn't slide into the booth opposite him. She remained standing, her hands buried deep in her coat pockets.
"You have five minutes before I walk out and call a family attorney," Maya said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register.
"Sit down, Maya," Ethan said softly, not looking up at her. "Please."
She hesitated, then slid onto the vinyl bench, keeping as much distance between them as the table allowed. "Make it quick, Ethan. What do you want?"
"I want to know why," Ethan finally raised his eyes, meeting her furious gaze head-on. "Why didn't you tell me? When did you find out? Did you know when we signed the papers?"
Maya let out a short, bitter laugh that held no humor at all. "You want the timeline, Ethan? Fine. I found out I was pregnant two weeks after you served me the papers. I tried to tell you. I drove down to your office in downtown Seattle on a Tuesday afternoon. Do you remember what your chief security officer told me?"
Ethan frowned. "I didn't give orders to turn you away."
"No, you didn't have to," Maya spat, leaning forward, the raw pain of that afternoon flashing across her face. "Your secretary looked at me like I was a piece of trash tracking mud onto your pristine marble floors. She told me Mr. Seo was in the middle of a multi-million-dollar acquisition and had no time for domestic distractions. She handed me a business card for your divorce attorney and told me to mail any financial requests through proper legal channels."
May you like
The words hit Ethan like physical shrapnel. He physically flinched, leaning back as if he’d been struck.
"I stood in that lobby," Maya continued, her voice trembling with suppressed tears, "holding a doctor's note confirming I was carrying your child, and realized something crystal clear: you didn't want a wife. You wanted an ornament. And when that ornament cracked, you threw it in the trash. I swore right then and there that my child would never look into the eyes of a man who looked at human beings like balance sheets."
