Chapter 6 - THE MEETING IN SEATTLE
Two weeks later, Mark, Julian, and I flew to Seattle.
We met Ethan at a quiet, sunlit café near the waterfront.
When he walked through the door, my breath caught in my throat. Standing six feet tall, with thick dark hair, kind blue eyes, and a warm smile, Ethan looked remarkably like my father—and remarkably like me.
The resemblance was so striking that when he walked up to our table, we didn't even need to ask if it was him.
"Hannah?" Ethan asked softly, his eyes searching my face.
"Ethan," I smiled, stepping forward to give my long-lost brother a tight, emotional hug.
We sat together for three hours, drinking coffee, sharing stories, and showing photos.
Ethan told us about his life—he had been raised by two loving, wonderful adoptive parents who had always been open about his adoption. He had a successful career, a loving wife named Clara, and a peaceful life, but he had always felt a quiet void regarding his origins.
"I always wondered why my biological parents didn't keep me," Ethan admitted gently, looking down at his coffee cup.
I took his hand across the table, feeling a profound sense of responsibility to give him the truth.
"My parents were young, Ethan," I explained gently. "Our grandparents were controlling, rigid people who forced my mother to give you up to protect their high-society image. But my mother never healed from that trauma. She buried it, hid it from me, and let it turn her into a bitter, controlling person."
I told him everything—about the baptism, the false invitations, the embroidered blankets, and the way she had tried to rename my son Charles to replace him.
Ethan listened intently, his expression shifting from curiosity to deep, empathetic understanding.
"She tried to replace me with your baby," Ethan said softly, shaking his head. "She's been running from her guilt for thirty years."
"She’s scheduled for a full court hearing on our protection order next week," I said. "She still refuses to take responsibility for what she did to Julian or to me."
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Ethan looked at little Julian, who was cooing happily in Mark’s arms, playing with a wooden toy. A gentle, determined smile touched Ethan's lips.
"I think it's time I met my biological mother," Ethan said quietly. "Not to hurt her, but to tell her that the boy she gave away is okay—and that she needs to stop hurting her daughter."
