Ethan Graham Taylor
"They won't stop calling you, aren't you going to answer?" the redhead beside him asked. She looked at Graham sensually and with desire.
How long had they been lovers? When did they start seeing each other in this way? When did they both get entangled in this tale of infidelity?
She was his assistant, who had no remorse about getting involved with him, even knowing he was married because, yes, she knew. Everyone knew about the dazzling wedding between Robert Graham and Alice Taylor. There was no one who didn't know about that important wedding.
Robert didn't care about that either. His wife was something he didn't care about. As long as she didn't leave that house where he left her, everything would be fine for him. He had her subdued, afraid to rebel against him. That's all Robert wanted, to keep Alice under his control, to make her understand that she was nothing more than him, that she couldn't escape his side, and he wouldn't let her be with that man she claimed to love.
"I know what it's about. My wife has given birth, or so it seems," he said without the slightest interest or joy for his firstborn who had just been born. That didn't excite him because just as he didn't want or feel anything for Alice, he also felt nothing for this child.
"Congratulations, now you're a father," the elegant and sensual young woman said mockingly. "Don't you plan to go see your son and your wife?" she asked, letting his hands rest on her bare breasts. His fingers closed, squeezing her breasts.
"And miss this feast?" he replied with a kiss. "Believe me, I'm better off here. I love the smile with which you welcome me, I love how your legs open for me, and most of all, I love the way you moan for me, Dayana. You're a goddess."
He immersed himself in her, making her moan, her legs wrapped around him. Dayana and her pleasures made him forget everything, just as Dayana wanted, thinking that with her games and how well she pleased him, she could become Mrs. Graham one day and displace young Alice Taylor. Because even on the day of the birth of his child, Robert was with her, not with Alice, just as he had been all those months when he left his pregnant wife alone in that lonely house.
She believed she had him in her clutches, with her charms, putting aside his wife, his family. While Robert knew that his wife and children were in the hospital, he believed it was a rather good punishment for proud Alice Taylor and that temper he still couldn't control because he still had the bad taste of knowing that she didn't enjoy sex with him, that she might be thinking of that other man she loved. So, by leaving her locked up, he made sure they wouldn't see each other until he found out who he was, who he was dealing with. He couldn't let her see that man; he couldn't allow it. And he needed to know who he was, something that tormented him every night.
Dayana gave him what Alice didn't. She made him feel like he pleased her, and those cries during sex, their movements, the way they touched each other, erased from his mind Alice's rigidity and her blandness in bed.
He still couldn't understand why he desired a woman like her, like his wife, with no more appeal than her face because he couldn't decide if he liked or disliked those pronounced curves.
But his cell phone wouldn't stop ringing due to the fact that his son had been born prematurely and in critical condition, with doubts about his survival.
(...)
"Here's Ethan. He's here now," the nurse said, placing him in the arms of his young mother.
Alice felt the tiny body in her arms and cradled him against her chest. His eyes were tightly closed, his little hands clenched, barely moving. He was very small and thin, his skin very pale, his abundant blonde hair pressed against his head like it was bathed in gold. His pointed nose and his soft, very soft skin.
He looked like a Taylor. Everything about that baby said he was a Taylor.
There was news they didn't want to give the new mother: her son was not well, and his condition was much more serious than she believed, worse than she knew. But her family was well aware of everything.
At the insistence of the Taylors, her son was brought to his mother, so at least Alice could see Ethan's face and have a pleasant memory of him, feel his warmth, and be close to her son, just in case something happened. Because something was going to happen.
She touched his face, and her fingers slid over that fine, soft skin. She cried when she saw him, realizing that she loved this tiny being in her arms, that she adored him, and that she had never thought she needed him until she saw his face.
She loved him.
Ethan lazily opened his eyes, and those blue eyes locked onto his mother. Alice smiled and brought her lips to his forehead, leaving a kiss there. She kissed his hands and his tiny fingers, and although Alice was crying, it was tears of happiness because she wouldn't be alone anymore. She had him, her son, her Ethan, who had kept her company all those months in that cold and lonely house.
She was with him now, and nothing else mattered, only that.
"Be happy, Alice. Be happy, he's your son," her mother said, marveling at the sight of her little daughter holding her son in her arms, and how happy innocent Alice looked.
They took a picture of the two of them, and then her family left them alone before taking Ethan away again.
"I love you," she told him with all the love that can be expressed in words. "Ethan, I love you. You'll have a mother who will give you all the love in the world. I'll take good care of you because you are my heart, my beautiful son. You are the only one I belong to. Do you like your name? Do you? " She kissed his forehead and then brought her face close to his. "You're so soft and you smell like so much love. I know you'll love me too; I just know it."
"Excuse me, Mrs. Graham," the nurse interrupted her after a few minutes. "We have to take the baby. He has to go now, and you need to rest. Those are the doctor's recommendations."
"Of course, I understand." But she didn't want to let go of him. Sadly, Alice said goodbye to her son, not knowing that it would be the last time she would see him alive, the last time she could hold him in her arms or kiss him, talk to him, touch him, look into his eyes, cherish her son.
Five hours later, in the early hours of that cold Tuesday in the pouring rain of November, Ethan Graham Taylor passed away, under the gaze of the nurse, watching as the fragile baby's life slipped away, with the doctors' efforts yielding no results, unable to save his life. It was what had been predicted, and it happened just like that.
He died.
The Taylor family was deeply saddened by the news, even though it had been one of the possibilities since Ethan was born.
Sofia, the older sister, went to Alice's room and found her asleep. She caressed her peaceful face and didn't want to wake her to give her the news. But as she was about to leave, with the door already open, Alice opened her eyes.
"Sofi? Are you leaving?" she asked with a sluggish voice, rubbing her eyes and stretching her hand to turn on the light, managing to see her older sister's tear-stained face, caused by the tears shed for her deceased nephew and the sadness she knew that would bring her sister.
"Alice..."
"Where is my baby?" She clung to the sheets, her whole body numb, and she had already started to cry, while the pain of the loss coursed through her. "Where is he, Sofia? My son, my Ethan. I want them to bring him here."
"Alice..."
"I want to see my son! I want them to bring him here! Now!" Upon hearing the screams, her parents rushed to the room, as did her sisters and the nurse.
"He has passed away," Sofia said when she couldn't find the words. Alice's face darkened, destroying everything within her, withering her from the inside, and making her feel lifeless. Just like her son.
She laid her head back on the bed, and her body remained motionless. She stopped crying and didn't utter another word. She just stayed there, looking at the ceiling, agonizing on the inside and unable to say anything more. Because not only had Ethan died for her, something inside her had died too, her spirit, her very being, leaving only an empty shell that was no longer capable of crying.
Alice Taylor was consumed from the inside by the loss of her son, whom she had only been able to hold in her arms once. She had nothing left; her happiness had disappeared. That joyful moment had been very brief, too fleeting.