“Mr. Ethan?” the man asked, smiling gently.
“Yes?” Ethan’s voice was hoarse with anxiety. “My name is Charles. I’m a lawyer. Can I come in? I have something very important to discuss with you.”
Ethan was scared because lawyers never brought good news. Had he done something wrong? Was someone suing him?
He stepped aside to allow the man to enter, his mind contemplating all the possible disasters.
Charles sat at the small kitchen table, looking around the modest apartment with its peeling wallpaper and worn furniture. Nina peered curiously around the corner of the hallway. Ruby held Sam’s hand by the bedroom door.
“Okay, kids,” Ethan said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Go have some fun.”
They disappeared reluctantly. Charles placed the folder on the table, opened it with two quiet clicks, and took out the photo.
He slid it across the table towards Ethan.
The photo shows Ethan in the park, spreading a pile of blankets on a bench in the early morning light.
Ethan’s mouth went dry. His head was spinning. Was helping the homeless illegal? Had he been reported for littering? For trespassing?
“Ethan,” Charles said quietly, “please don’t worry. You’re not in trouble. Quite the opposite.”
Ethan stared at him with wide eyes.
Charles leaned forward, his expression warm and serious. “I think you deserve to know why I’m here.”
Ethan gripped the edge of the table, his heart pounding in his chest.
When Charles smiled at him, the worst possible scenarios flashed through his mind.
Karol calmly crossed his arms and began to speak.
“That old homeless man you helped in the park, the one with the frostbitten fingers, his name was Harold. He was my father.”
