Chapter 5 - the encounter on fifth
The morning sun broke across the wet pavement of the city with a blinding, diamond clarity. Spencer did not send an assistant. At ten o’clock, his black Maybach pulled up directly in front of an exclusive children’s boutique on Fifth Avenue. Two private security guards stepped out first, flanking the perimeter, while Spencer stepped onto the curb holding Charlee’s hand.
Charlee was dressed in a new navy coat Mabel had procured at dawn, her hair brushed and tied with a clean velvet ribbon. Her eyes were wide as she looked at the sprawling glass displays filled with hand-knitted clothing, silver rattles, and towering stuffed animals.
Inside, Spencer moved through the aisles with cold efficiency, pointing out essentials while a team of three store clerks scurried behind them, loading boxes into towering stacks.
"Pick whatever he needs," Spencer told Charlee, watching her hover near a towering display of handcrafted plush toys.
Charlee didn't hesitate. She reached out and carefully lifted a small, incredibly soft blue teddy bear with a white satin ribbon around its neck. "Dexter needs this one. So he doesn't get scared when it gets dark."
Spencer nodded once to the store manager. "Add it."
As Spencer turned toward the cashier counter, holding two boxes of infant formula and a luxury travel carrier, the boutique’s front chime chimed.
A woman walked through the brass-framed glass doors. She wore a tailored cream cashmere coat that swept past her knees, high heels, and a silk scarf tied at her throat. Her auburn hair was pinned back in an immaculate twist, her pale, porcelain skin framing intelligent, striking green eyes.
Dr. Pamela Ortiz stopped dead in the center of the showroom floor.
Her designer handbag slipped from her fingers, hitting the polished marble tiles with a soft, dull thud. Her eyes darted from Spencer’s face down to the infant carrier in his left hand, and then to the small girl clutching the blue teddy bear.
The color drained from Pamela’s face until she looked almost translucent. Her chest rose and fell in short, panicked gasps.
Spencer did not drop his gaze. He stepped forward, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the marble, his gray-blue eyes pinning her where she stood. The air between them instantly turned electric, sharp with four years of unresolved history and betrayal.
"Spencer..." Pamela’s voice was barely a whisper, trembling with a terror so raw it drew the attention of the store clerks.
"Pamela," Spencer said, his voice flat, dangerously quiet. "You left something by the clinic dumpster yesterday."
Pamela pressed her knuckles against her mouth. A ragged sob caught in her throat. She stepped back until her shoulders struck the glass display behind her, looking at him as though she were staring at a ghost who had risen from the grave to claim her life.
May you like
"Spencer... you don't understand," she stammered, her voice shaking so badly she could barely form the syllables. "I didn't throw him away... they took him from me. I used your genetic material a year ago."
Spencer slowly set the infant carrier down on the counter. His expression didn't shift, but the silence that followed her confession was louder than any explosion.
