The gold Rolex on his wrist was not merely expensive. Twenty-two years earlier, he had commissioned three identical pieces. One he wore. One remained locked in his penthouse safe, untouched. The third had vanished the night he threw his only son out of his life.
“W-what did you say?” William asked, his voice unfamiliar even to himself.
The boy struggled slightly against the guards. “I said my dad has a watch like yours, sir. Same gold. Same engraving on the back.”
William’s pulse pounded. “What engraving?”
The boy swallowed. “W.H. ‘William Harrison for Daniel.’ My dad showed it to me.”
William gripped the edge of the table as if the room might tilt.
“Let him go,” he ordered quietly.
The guards released the boy at once.
Up close, William noticed unsettling similarities—a slight crook in the nose, a familiar jawline, a faint scar above the brow.
“What’s your name?” William asked.
“Ethan,” the boy said. “Ethan Harrison.”
The surname felt heavy in the air.
“And your father?”
Ethan’s shoulders tightened. “He died three months ago.”
The words hollowed William’s chest.
“From what?”
“Lung cancer. He worked construction. Dust, chemicals… long hours. By the time he saw a doctor, it was too late.”