Mr. Raymond was ready to scold him further, but something in the boy’s clear eyes and battered bike made him pause. He sighed and waved dismissively. “Forget it. Just be careful next time.”
Relief washed over Ethan. He bowed slightly, then suddenly said, “Sir… my mom has a picture of you in her wallet.”
Mr. Raymond froze. “What did you just say? A picture of me? Who is your mother?”
“Her name is Grace. She sells lottery tickets downtown. I’ve seen your photo before, but she never lets me ask about it.”
The name struck him like a distant echo. Thirteen years ago, before wealth and fame, he had loved a girl named Grace—a gentle street vendor who used to save him a seat at her lemonade stand. Back then, he was just starting out.
When his career began rising, his family pressured him to marry into status. Driven by ambition, he walked away without explanation. Later, he heard she was pregnant. He buried the memory and convinced himself it was better not to look back.
“It’s just coincidence,” he muttered to himself, climbing into his car. Yet Ethan’s words followed him all day.