His Maybach rolled slowly down Peachtree Street, headlights cutting through the flurries. Ethan’s phone buzzed with messages from his assistant and from Claire, his fiancée. He ignored them all. He just needed air, silence—anything that didn’t feel bought or planned.
Then something caught his eye.
Three small shapes huddled near a closed storefront, wrapped in thin blankets. A woman crouched beside them, her arms around their shoulders. Ethan frowned and slowed down.
The woman’s head lifted slightly, and his world stopped.
It couldn’t be.
“Lauren,” he whispered, his breath fogging the window.
He slammed the brakes, threw the car in park, and stepped into the biting cold. The snow hit his tailored coat, melting instantly.
He moved closer, his heartbeat deafening. The woman flinched as he neared, trying to shield the children from view. But when she turned fully toward him, he saw her face, and the years vanished.
Lauren Hayes Carter. His ex-wife. The woman he’d loved and lost eight years ago.
“Ethan.” Her voice was barely a whisper, weak and hoarse.
“What are you doing out here?” he demanded, disbelief and anger laced together.