Chapter 2 - The Discovery at Kitsilano
The phone slipped from Gavin’s hand, tumbling into his palm before he caught it by the screen. His mouth was dry, tasting of copper and bile.
“Gavin? What’s wrong?” Jade asked, her hand reaching out to touch his lapel, her voice rising in genuine panic. “Was that Bradley? Did the Meridian partners confirm our dinner reservations at Hawksworth? I told your mother we were celebrating tonight!”
“Shut up, Jade,” Gavin snapped, his voice dropping into a harsh, trembling rasp that made her flinch backward.
In eight months of their affair and three months of living together in the Lake Forest house, Gavin had never raised his voice to her. He had treated her like a porcelain prize—young, pliable, constantly validating his intellect and his masculinity with wide, admiring eyes. But right now, looking at her silk dress and her painted nails, all he could see was an expense account he could no longer afford.
Without waiting for her, Gavin strode across the convention floor toward the registration desk, pulling out his corporate badge. “Where is the executive office for Regent Regulatory Partners?”
The young woman behind the desk smiled politely. “Regent’s primary summit suite is on the fourth floor, sir. But Miss Caldwell has already left the building for the afternoon. She had a scheduled family commitment.”
“Where does she live?” Gavin demanded, his knuckles whitening against the marble counter. “I am her ex-husband. We have an urgent legal matter regarding our son.”
The receptionist’s smile vanished, replaced by the cool, guarded professionalism of corporate security. “Sir, we do not disclose private residential addresses under any circumstances. If you have a legal inquiry, you may contact Regent’s general counsel.”
Gavin turned on his heel, his mind racing through every fragmented detail of the last four months.
Vancouver. Kitsilano.
He remembered the small slip of paper he had found tucked inside Eli’s old geometry workbook before they left Chicago—a library bookmark stamped with the address of a neighborhood community center on West 4th Avenue. At the time, he had dismissed it as meaningless clutter.
Twenty minutes later, Gavin had abandoned the summit, left Jade sitting in the hotel lobby with their luggage, and hailed a taxi across the Burrard Bridge toward the leafy, rain-washed streets of Kitsilano.
The neighborhood was completely unlike the sterile, gated perfection of Lake Forest. Ancient maples arched over wide sidewalks, their golden autumn leaves plastered to the asphalt by the afternoon drizzle. The air smelled of woodsmoke, cedar needles, and the wild, clean salt of the Pacific Ocean.
He found the address nestled on a quiet residential lane three blocks from the beach: a restored 1920s craftsman home with wide cedar shingles, deep eaves, and a covered porch glowing with warm amber light.
Parked in the driveway was a dark green Volvo wagon. In the small front yard, an enormous, four-month-old golden retriever puppy was bounding through a pile of leaves, barking with joyous, clumsy abandon.
And sitting on the porch steps, wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt, denim jeans, and waterproof hiking boots, was nine-year-old Eli.
He looked different.
In Chicago, Eli had always been quiet, pale, hunched over his iPad in the corner of the living room whenever Gavin came home late and stressed. He had walked with his shoulders curved inward, as if trying not to occupy space in a house governed by Gavin’s moods and Colette’s endless critiques.
Now, the boy was laughing. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cool sea air, his dark hair tousled, his hazel eyes bright with an uninhibited, fierce vitality that Gavin had never seen before.
“Eli!” Gavin called out, pushing through the low cedar gate.
The boy froze.
The retriever stopped mid-bounce, letting out a sharp, protective bark before trotting back to plant itself firmly between Gavin and the porch steps, its hackles slightly raised.
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Eli stood up slowly, the wide, radiant grin vanishing from his face in a single heartbeat, replaced by a guarded, careful stillness that made him look thirty years older.
“Dad?” Eli said. His voice was flat. He didn't run down the steps. He didn't drop his stick. He stayed on the porch, his hand resting calmly on the dog’s brass-studded collar. “What are you doing here?”
