Chapter 2
Inside the car, Edward turned up the heat and tucked Leo into a spare blanket from the back seat.
Swallowed by the plush leather, the boy peered around with wide, curious eyes, but didn't touch a thing.
"Let's call your mother first." Edward handed him the phone, dialing the number.
It rang for a long time before a weak, feminine voice answered, thick with congestion and interrupted by harsh coughs. "Hello?"
"Mom!" Leo sat up straight, clutching the phone with both hands. "Mom, are you okay? I got the medicine, but I got lost. A nice mister is helping me call you..."
A brief pause crackled over the line before the woman's voice sharpened with alarm. "Leo? Where are you? Who's with you? Give the phone to the stranger, now!"
Leo obediently passed the phone back.
"Hello, I'm Edward Sterling. Your kid got lost in the storm and was curled up by my car. I'm at the intersection of Riverdale Avenue and Riverside Road. Where do you live? I can drive him back."
Another silence.
Then, her voice returned, trembling unmistakably. "No... please, just give me the address. I'll come get him."
Edward frowned in confusion.
The rain was torrential, and she sounded terribly ill.
"Give me the address." The command in his voice brooked no argument.
After a long hesitation, she finally relented, reciting an address in a defeated murmur.
Edward directed Tom to change course.
As the car glided through the wet night, Leo remained quiet, occasionally stealing glances at his rescuer.
"What is it?" Edward asked, noticing the attention.
"You're very handsome, Mister. Handsomer than anyone I've ever seen," Leo stated with childish sincerity.
A ghost of a smile touched Edward's lips.
"And..." Leo tilted his head, a puzzled expression forming. "Mister, you look like me."
Edward's finger tapped lightly on his knee. "Do I?"
"Yeah!" Leo nodded emphatically. "Especially the eyes and mouth. It's just the same! In the photos Mom shows me, I look a lot like you."
Edward stayed silent, but his gaze grew more unreadable.
The Maybach turned into an aging, narrow alley flanked by decaying apartment blocks from the seventies, their walls stained, a chaotic web of power lines overhead.
The luxury vehicle was a stark, alien presence. As they pulled up to a six-story building, Leo pointed to a third-floor window glowing with faint yellow light. "That's my home, Mister."
Edward carried him inside, the umbrella shielding them both.
The stairwell was unlit, walls plastered with flyers, the air stale with dampness.
Apartment 301, left side.
The door was slightly ajar. Violent coughing echoed from within.
Edward pushed the door open and walked right in.
The room was tiny, perhaps four hundred square feet, but scrupulously tidy.
On a narrow single bed, a woman struggled to sit up. She was deathly pale, with a sheen of sweat on her forehead, dressed in a faded cotton nightgown.
Her hair was tousled around thin shoulders; she looked fragile enough to break.
But when her eyes met Edward's, he stiffened, rooted to the spot.
The same teary, stubborn, doe-like eyes that had haunted his dreams for years.
"I-It's you," Edward said, his voice so low it seemed to rumble from deep in his chest.
Recognition dawned on her face, draining every last drop of color.
She began to tremble violently, from fever or sheer terror.
"Y-You get out!" The words were a ragged cry. "Leo, come here! Now!"
Startled by his mother's panic, Leo clung tighter to Edward. "Mom..."
"Leo, come here!" Her voice cracked with desperation.
Slowly, Edward crouched and set the boy down.
Leo immediately scurried to the bed, burying himself in his mother's arms. "Mom, don't be scared. The man is good. He helped me find home..."
She held her son fiercely, her gaze locked on Edward like a cornered animal protecting its young.
"Please leave." Her voice shook, but her resolve was iron. "Thank you for bringing Leo home. But you need to go. Now."
Edward remained, his eyes sweeping the cramped space.
Cardboard boxes in the corner, covered with a floral cloth, served as a wardrobe.
The kitchen was just inside the door, barely room to turn around. On the counter sat a bowl of cold oatmeal and a half-used packet of cold medicine.
A framed photo on the nightstand showed a newborn Leo cradled in his mother's arms, her smile warm yet weary.
His gaze finally settled on the woman's thin arms wrapped protectively around her son.
They were so slender he could trace the blue veins beneath her skin.
"You're ill," he stated.
"Not your concern," she replied.
He said, "Your child was out alone in a storm to buy you medicine. He could have been hit by a car. Or taken."
Her eyes welled up, but she clenched her jaw. "That's my business."
"What's your name?" he asked.
"None of yours."
"Five years ago. The Riverdale Grand Hotel. The penthouse suite—"
"Stop it!" Her head jerked up, eyes wide with panic. "Don't. I don't remember anything. Nothing happened that night!"
Edward moved to the bedside, his shadow engulfing them both.
He said quietly, his words slicing through the silence like a stone breaking the surface of water, "You're lying. Your son's last name is Sterling.
"He looks exactly like me, and he's just over four years old. The timing, the place, and the resemblance? They all line up perfectly."
He lowered himself until they were eye-level. "He's my son."
Tears finally spilled over, tracing paths down her ashen cheeks.
However, she shook her head frantically, her voice breaking. "No. He's not. He's my child. Mine alone. He has nothing to do with you!"
As Edward watched her unravel, a vise seemed to tighten around his heart.
Five years ago, he'd been drugged and set up. In his haze, a woman had burst into the room.
He remembered losing control, taking her roughly, unable to stop himself.
Edward had awoken to an empty bed, the only evidence a stain on the sheets and a single pearl earring.
He'd assumed it was a regrettable transaction, that she'd taken payment and vanished.
But now, this gaunt woman, this threadbare room, and this child who was his mirror image painted a different story.
For five years, she had raised his son alone here, in this poverty.
She'd never sought him out, never asked for a dime.
And now, faced with him, her first instinct was to push him away.
Edward rose to his feet.
From his pocket, he took a business card and placed it on the nightstand.
"This is my number. When you've calmed down, give me a call. We'll talk then," Edward said.
She turned her face away, refusing to look at him or the card.
Edward turned and walked toward the door.
At the doorway, he paused. "Leo."
The little boy peeked out from his mother's embrace.
"Take care of your mom," Edward said.
Leo blinked in surprise, then gave a solemn, determined nod. "I will, Mister!"
Without looking back, Edward strode out into the pouring night.