Mommy, Where's Daddy? The Forsaken Daughter's Return
Chapter 21: The Mystery Woman

Taking a deep breath, Ethan Wright carefully studied the surveillance footage from the First Diamond Hotel.

He saw how Samantha had an encounter with her father, and they did not appear to have exchanged any words. Samantha merely froze at the sight of her father, and the great General Winfield Davis simply turned to enter the two-carat conference room again.

His hand clenched into a tight fist before muttering, "He ignored her." He leaned back in his seat and repeated, "He just... ignored her... like she was nobody in his life."

Ethan was already in his penthouse suite on top of one of the most luxurious residential buildings in the city. It was there where he had lived alone since he turned twenty-eight, no longer under the indulging of his parents.

The second he arrived, he went straight to his study and repeatedly watched the videos sent over to him by the hotel manager. He did not know how many times he played it back, just zooming in and out of the videos, but he only stopped after fully determining that the general's avoiding had fully hurt Samantha.

With a heavy sigh, he thought back to Aiden's words and mumbled, "Samantha Turner Davis... could you really be the one?"

Ethan got up from his seat and walked to his bookshelf. Behind a row of books was a secret safe. After putting aside the books, he opened the safe and took out a ziplock bag.

Inside the bag was a conspicuous hundred-dollar bill and a piece of paper containing a note beside it. The note said, "I'm sorry. Please forget about last night."

Ethan could not help but hiss in dismay, recalling how he got the hundred-dollar bill. He meant to get the answer to that night's event... once and for all. After locking back the safe, he turned away, carrying the ziplock bag in his hands and putting it inside his office bag.

Just as he was about to rest for the night, he noticed how his phone was vibrating. He checked his mobile and saw a W******p message from Kyle.

Kyle's text: [Daddy, why did mommy cry so much? Did you fight? You should be here with mommy.]

It made Ethan rock his head and think deeply. After seconds of contemplating, he answered: [Kyle, I did not hurt your mommy. She was hurt by someone else... Your mommy preferred to talk to your aunt than me.]

Kyle: [But why, daddy? Why can't you be here?]

Kyle: [Don't daddies live with their families?]

Ethan wound up sitting back down in his chair. He swiveled his seat and took a deep breath. Only then did he answer: [They do. Daddies live with their families. Kyle, I'll talk to you another time. I have to take a rest now, and you need to take care of your mommy.]

[It's your job to comfort her, okay?] Ethan encouraged before finally putting his phone back down.

***

It took two days for Samantha to reach out to John Garcia, scheduling another meeting with Ethan Wright. When she did, she prepared a packed lunch for both John and Ethan.

She dropped by the Wright Diamond Corporation in the morning, right after sending the kids to school.

Samantha was sent directly into Ethan's office, and it was there that she presented her well-prepared and inviting meal, set on a bento lunch box.

Upon Samantha's presentation, Ethan immediately hummed in delight. Despite it still being ten in the morning, he was already feeling hungry.

"You know what... I only had toast and coffee for breakfast. Do you mind... if I eat while we talk?" Ethan asked.

"Of course, Mr. Wright!" Samantha agreed.

At first taste, Ethan recalled his reasons for hiring Samantha. It was more than just the sudden awe she gave him. It was because of how she cooked her food. He concluded regardless of the outcome of their exchange that morning; he must insist that Samantha be the head chef of the First Diamond Hotel.

Ethan had already anticipated a denial.

For the past two days, he honestly felt conflicted about Samantha, especially after learning she may be the mystery woman years back.

However, after seeing her now, all his apprehensions seemed to have disappeared. He just did not see her as the kind of woman he thought she was... six years back.

"Are you feeling better?" Ethan asked before putting the last portion of his Greek salad in his mouth.

He heard Samantha answer, "Yes, thank you. I came here to apologize."

"No need to be sorry. I suppose this... This is your way of making up for the time," Ethan assumed. He put down his packed lunch aside, planning to eat the rest later. He at least had a decent amount of vegetables in his stomach.

"About the dinner with the Songs - "Samantha tried to initiate, but Ethan had other plans.

"Miss Davis, I want to talk to you about something else," Ethan revealed while fixing his coat and moving closer to his table. "Something really... really important."

"What is it, Mr. Wright?" Samantha asked.

Ethan leaned close to Samantha's view and studied her striking blue eyes. He took a deep breath and said, "Miss Davis, if anything, I dislike people who dismiss the facts. So in what we are about to cover... I'd really want you... to be fully honest with me."

Bemused, Samantha's brows furrowed. She raised her shoulders and said, "Of course... if it is true and something I can confirm on... Maybe I know what this is all about?"

Pulling out his table drawer, Ethan reached for the same ziplock bag that had been there for two days. He held it and said without looking at Samantha, "About six years ago... I attended my college friend's wedding, fronting the Fort Eagle Military Camp."

He leaned back in his seat and repeatedly sighed while keeping the ziplock contained in his hand. After resting his back, he resumed narrating, "My friend... he was a prankster... While he was getting high on booze, he spiked my drinks in an effort to introduce me to a woman - I was never really interested in women."

"A - a wedding?" Samantha asked while stuttering.

Ethan noticed the color of her face paled and how she was having difficulty in forming her words. He heard her probe further, "Which - I mean, whose wedding? And this was... about six years ago?" "My friend is Lance Carter. He is a financial expert, now working for the military. His wife... is Cadet Sergeant Emilia Plater... now no longer a cadet, but I believe she is a captain," Ethan casually answered. While maintaining to study Samantha, he asked, "Do you... know them, Miss Davis?"

For a second, Samantha's jaws just dropped, but soon enough, she found the right words to say, "Um... I knew Emilia Plater. Back in the academy... when I was training, she was one of those who trained me." "Hmmm," Ethan answered. "So... we must have met at the wedding. We just did not know each other back then."

Ethan saw how Samantha forced a smile and said while her voice was breaking, "Ye - yes. May - maybe."

"Anyway, as I was saying, Miss Davis... My friend spiked my drinks... I easily became dizzy and required a place to rest. Lance, he - he gave me a room." He sneered and explained, "He just handed me a hote key from one of his no-show guests."

Long story short... While I was resting and out of it, a woman crept into my room in the middle of my sleep and gave me an experience of the night." Ethan tightened his eyes on Samantha before including, "I woke up in the morning by myself."

Seeing how Samantha's eyes were getting restless, shifting from one corner to another while keeping her head down, he placed the ziplock bag on the table's surface. He said, "Then I saw a note on the bedside table, telling me to forget about what happened the night before and leaving me... a hundred-dollar bill."

Ethan shook his head and hissed. He said, "The nerve of that woman! Don't you think?"

"Ethan Wright got paid off with a hundred dollars over a night of service." Ethan once again leaned forward to Samantha and said, "What am I? A Gigolo?!"

"Ha ha!" Samantha was already up, putting her bag across her torso. She said, "Mr. Wright... Haha! I'm... I'm sure it wasn't like that at all... maybe it was just a... misunderstanding - I better go. Mr. Wright." Without warning, Samantha turned hastily and got out the door.

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