Chapter 7 - The Hidden SafehouseArmed with the name Evelyn Vance, Ethan didn't waste a single second. He caught the red-eye flight to Boston, his mind racing with a mixture of hope and paralyzing anxiety. What if this child, too, had been taught to fear him? What if the family who adopted her through Victoria’s illicit channels viewed him as an interloper?
The address led to a quiet, tree-lined suburb outside Cambridge—a modest, well-kept colonial home with a golden retriever sleeping on the front porch. Ethan parked his rental car half a block away, cutting the engine. He sat in the driver's seat for ten minutes, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his fingers ached. He was a man who had faced enemy fire without flinching, yet stepping out of this car felt terrifying.
He unbuckled his seatbelt, pushed the door open, and walked up the paved walkway. Before he could even lift his hand to knock, the front door swung open. Standing there was a woman in her late thirties with kind, tired eyes, holding a basket of folded laundry. She froze when she saw the man in civilian clothes standing on her porch. "Can I help you?" she asked cautiously, her grip tightening on the laundry basket.
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"Are you... Evelyn Vance?" Ethan asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The woman’s eyes widened slightly. "Yes. Who are you?" Ethan swallowed hard, pulling out a worn photograph of Emily from his wallet—the only one he had managed to salvage from the past. "My name is Ethan Knight. I’m... I’m your daughter’s biological father."
Evelyn dropped the laundry basket. Towels spilled across the wooden porch floor. She grabbed the doorframe for support, her face turning pale. "I was waiting for this day," Evelyn choked out, tears instantly filling her eyes. "I knew the adoption was dirty from day one, but I loved her the second I held her. Please... come inside."
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