Even the same small dimple in his cheek.
My hands started trembling.
The plate I was holding slipped from my fingers and shattered on the ground.
Before anyone could react, my legs gave out.
I dropped to my knees, staring at the boy… then at my boss.
Trying to understand how it was possible that Michael’s son looked exactly like mine.
Michael watched me carefully.
After a long moment, he placed his glass on the table and spoke quietly.
“Ryan… I think it’s time you learned the truth about what happened seven years ago.”
The silence in the backyard became heavy.
Little Ethan looked at me with curiosity, clearly confused about why a grown man was staring at him like he’d seen a ghost.
My breathing became uneven.
“This… this isn’t possible,” I whispered.
Michael stepped closer.
“Ryan,” he said calmly, “stand up. We need to talk.”
But my legs felt weak.
The image of Lucas blended with the boy standing before me—the same expression, the same curious tilt of the head.
Laura gently took Ethan’s hand.
“Sweetheart, go play inside for a bit.”
The boy nodded and ran back into the house.
When the door closed, Michael pulled out a chair.
“Sit,” he said quietly.
I forced myself up and dropped into it.