Construction.
William thought of the countless sites he owned, of anonymous men in hard hats moving through his projects like replaceable parts. A terrible possibility surfaced—had his son worked on one of his buildings without him ever knowing?
“Sit down,” William said hoarsely. “Please. And bring him something to eat,” he told the waiter.
Ethan sat stiffly, as though afraid to stain the chair. He ordered a simple burger, embarrassed.
“Bring whatever he wants,” William added.
Charles shifted uneasily. “William, you need to verify this. DNA, documentation. People take advantage—”
“I’m not here for money!” Ethan snapped, standing abruptly. “I just wanted you to know my dad existed. He wasn’t invisible.”
William raised a hand. “Sit down. I believe you.”
The boy hesitated, then obeyed.
“Tell me about him,” William said softly. “Tell me about Daniel.”
Ethan’s voice trembled as he spoke. Daniel had lived in Queens with his wife, Maria Lopez, who cleaned offices at night. They struggled but were close. Daniel rarely mentioned his wealthy father, but some nights he would take out the watch and stare at it quietly.