The Drowned Heir Returns

Chapter 10. They Found My Weakness

The cameras rolled. The microphones were shoved forward like weapons.

Richard Carter stood on the steps of Pinnacle Industries, his suit pressed, his tie straight, his face arranged into an expression of careful humility. The morning sun caught the sweat at his temples.

"I want to sincerely apologize to Mr. Carter and the Vanguard Group," Richard said, his voice steady for the cameras. "The reports about harmful ingredients were false. My team investigated, and the claims were fabricated. I also apologize for not informing Vanguard about my decision to produce an affordable version of Star Fragrances for smaller markets. My intentions were good. I simply failed to respect the terms of our contract."

He paused. Swallowed. Forced a warm smile.

"I should have spoken to my business partner first. That was my mistake."

The reporters shouted questions. Richard raised a hand, nodded politely, and turned back toward the building. The moment he was out of frame, the smile dropped.

---

Ethan watched the broadcast from his office chair, legs crossed, arms folded.

The screen showed his father's face — that practiced, pathetic smile. The same man who'd called him worthless. Who'd hidden him from the world. Who'd ordered him killed.

And now he was bowing. On live television. For the whole city to see.

Ethan's lips curled.

*One by one, Richard. You'll pay for every single thing. Just wait.*

A knock at the door. Aaron entered, head bowed slightly.

"Report, sir. Miss Reed refused to be taken home. She asked to be dropped at a nightclub. A friend's place downtown."

Ethan's jaw tightened. The Gold Room. He knew that place.

Olivia couldn't handle alcohol. Two drinks and she'd be sick for days. She'd been doing it since high school — every time something hurt, she drank until her stomach rebelled, then suffered in silence for a week.

And today, he was the reason she hurt.

"Send a few men," Ethan said quietly. "Watch her. If she pushes it — if she starts drinking too much — pull her out. Don't let her destroy herself."

"Yes, sir."

Aaron left. Ethan turned back to the window. The city stretched out below him, gray and endless.

*I'm sorry, Liv. But I couldn't lie to you.*

---

The Carter residence. Fairview. Evening.

Richard stumbled through the front door, one arm draped over Logan's shoulder. His face was flushed, his tie loose, his breath thick with whiskey.

In the living room, Sandra sat on the couch beside a small boy with dark hair and wide eyes. Jack Carter was ten, home from Europe for the first time, still adjusting to being near his parents after years with his grandparents abroad.

Sandra's expression hardened when she saw her husband. She immediately turned Jack's face back toward the television.

"Looks like Daddy's not feeling well, sweetheart. I'll take care of him. You keep watching your show, okay?"

"Okay, Mama."

Sandra stood and guided Richard toward the bedroom. She shut the door behind them. Richard collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, his head hanging.

"I don't want this happening again," Sandra said, her voice low and sharp. "Next time, I'm in charge. You're too careless. Or maybe—" Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe you're holding back because he's your son."

Richard's head snapped up. "Shut your mouth, Sandra. Don't you dare accuse me of that. If I cared about him, I would've stopped you three years ago."

He pushed himself up and stumbled toward the bathroom. The door slammed.

Sandra stared at the closed door. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

*Fine. Next time, I move without you. Let's see how long your precious son lasts when I'm the one pulling the strings.*

She turned and walked out, leaving Richard to his whiskey and his shame.

---

The sound hit Ethan the moment he stepped through the gate — not sound, exactly, but *movement*. Dozens of small hands clapping. Feet stomping. Faces lighting up.

Silver Pines Academy. A residential school for deaf children on the quiet edge of the city. Ethan funded it entirely. Tuition, food, housing, medical care. Every child inside had a warm bed and a full stomach because of him.

He knew what it was like to be one of them. Born deaf. Hidden. Unwanted.

These kids would never feel that way. Not on his watch.

Ethan smiled — a real one, wide and warm — and raised his hands.

*Line up, everyone. I brought presents.*

The children scrambled into a wobbly row, pushing each other, signing excitedly. Ethan moved down the line, handing out backpacks stuffed with school supplies, baskets of snacks, and envelopes with cash for bus fare and books.

From the doorway, Aaron watched his boss laugh as a little girl tried to sign *thank you* three times in a row, getting it wrong each time, then giggling and trying again.

After the gifts were gone, Ethan walked into the small reception room where Joyce Mercer waited. She'd run Silver Pines for over fifteen years. Her hair was silver, her hands rough from work, her eyes kind.

"Are they doing all right, Joyce?" Ethan asked, sitting across from her.

"We have more than enough, thanks to you, Mr. Carter. The children eat well. They go to school. They dream." She smiled. "You've given them that."

"Good." Ethan nodded. "Please compile a list of any children who qualify for hearing aids. Especially the ones transitioning to mainstream schools. They need the support to keep up with classmates and make friends."

"I'll have it for you by next week." Joyce hesitated. Her fingers twisted in her lap.

"What is it?" Ethan leaned forward.

"Yesterday... two men came. Black suits. They said they wanted to make a donation for the children." Joyce's voice dropped. "But then they started asking about you. Whether you run this place. Whether the children are yours to protect. I told them yes. I didn't think—" She stopped. Swallowed. "I'm sorry. I was afraid they might mean harm."

Ethan went still.

The air in the room felt heavier. His mind raced. Two men. Suits. Asking questions about him. About this place. About his connection to these children.

*Richard. Sandra. They're looking for what hurts me most.*

"Listen to me carefully, Joyce." His voice was calm but firm. "Do not accept visitors like that again. No donations from strangers. No one new. Only the people who've been coming here for years. Understood?"

Joyce nodded quickly, her face pale. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Carter. I should've been more careful."

"It's not your fault." Ethan stood. His eyes swept the room — the small chairs, the finger paintings taped to the walls, the sign-language alphabet posters.

*They found it. They found the one place I can't fight back without risking innocent children.*

"I'm adding security here. Cameras. Guards at the gate." Ethan's fists clenched at his sides. "They want to use these kids against me. They want to find my weakness."

He turned toward the window. Outside, the children played in the yard, silent and joyful, their hands dancing in the afternoon light.

*You'll have to go through me first.*