Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN WHO SAVED MY SONThe helicopter landed on Marcus’s lawn forty-three minutes later.
Marcus caught me before I reached the open window.
“No!”
“They took my baby!”
“I know.”
“Let me go!”
“You’re not jumping from the second floor.”
I struck his chest.
“Then do something!”
His face broke.
Not completely.
Just enough for me to see the father beneath the criminal.
“I will.”
Eli clung to my neck, sobbing.
“Bring Noah back.”
Marcus crouched.
“I will.”
“You promise?”
Marcus looked at me.
Then at our son.
“Yes.”
The same man who had told me he didn’t make promises lightly made one to a four-year-old without hesitation.
Adrian entered.
“Vehicle went through the east woods. They cut the fence.”
“How?”
“Someone disabled camera sector four.”
“Inside help.”
“Yes.”
Marcus’s eyes became deadly.
“Find them.”
He looked at me.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“He’s my child too.”
“I’m not putting you in the field.”
“I’m not asking permission.”
“Elena—”
“Do not turn back into the man I ran from.”
That stopped him.
I handed Eli to Chloe.
She stared at me.
“You trust me with him?”
“No.”
Pain crossed her face.
“But I trust that you know what happens if you fail him.”
She nodded.
“I’ll die first.”
“Please don’t make that necessary.”
I kissed Eli.
“Mommy is bringing Noah home.”
His lip trembled.
“With Dad?”
I looked at Marcus.
“Yes.”
For the next hour, the estate became a command center.
Victor’s vehicle had switched plates twice.
Traffic cameras lost it outside Worcester.
Marcus called men whose names I didn’t know.
Adrian accessed systems I probably wasn’t supposed to ask about.
I opened Chloe’s flash drive.
What we found changed everything.
Payments.
Judges.
Private investigators.
Politicians.
Photographs.
Victor had spent years preparing for a war against Marcus.
Then we found a folder labeled E.H.
My initials.
I opened it.
My stomach turned.
Photographs of me dating back seven years.
Leaving work.
Shopping.
Running in Central Park.
Sitting with Marcus at restaurants.
“He was watching me before we were engaged.”
Marcus looked over my shoulder.
His face darkened.
Another file contained medical records.
Mine.
“How did he get these?”
Adrian frowned.
Then clicked.
Blood tests.
Dental records.
A fertility consultation I had attended after Marcus and I spent a year trying unsuccessfully to conceive.
I stared at the screen.
“They knew we wanted children.”
Marcus became very quiet.
Another document appeared.
A payment to a laboratory.
The date was eight weeks before my pregnancy.
“What is this?”
Adrian opened the attachment.
My blood froze.
It was a medical report.
Not mine.
Marcus’s.
“Genetic sample viability,” Adrian read.
Marcus stared.
“I never authorized this.”
I scrolled.
A company name appeared.
A fertility clinic I recognized.
The clinic I had visited.
“No.”
My hands began shaking.
“What?”
“I went there.”
Marcus looked at me.
“When?”
“Two months before I became pregnant.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted to know if something was wrong with me first.”
I swallowed.
“They said everything was normal.”
Adrian opened another file.
“Victor paid someone at the clinic.”
Marcus cursed.
“For what?”
Adrian read silently.
Then looked at us.
“Your pregnancy wasn’t an accident.”
I stared.
“What?”
“The clinic stole a sperm sample from a routine health screening Marcus underwent through Vale Medical.”
“That’s impossible.”
“They transferred material to Elena’s clinic.”
Marcus’s face turned cold.
“Why?”
Adrian kept reading.
“It looks like Victor wanted an heir created.”
The room spun.
“I conceived naturally.”
I remembered.
Marcus and I had been intimate throughout that month.
“There was no procedure.”
Adrian nodded.
“But the clinic gave you supplements?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Vitamins. Hormonal support.”
He showed me another document.
“They manipulated your cycle.”
I felt violated in a way I couldn’t describe.
Marcus gripped the desk so hard his knuckles whitened.
“Victor engineered the possibility of a child.”
“But why?”
Adrian answered.
“The trust.”
Of course.
Victor couldn’t access the money unless Marcus had a son.
So he helped create one.
Then planned to take him.
I wanted to vomit.
Marcus looked at me.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
It was the first time I said those words and meant them.
His eyes changed.
Not relief.
Something deeper.
“Victor wanted us together long enough to produce an heir,” I whispered. “Then Chloe broke us apart.”
“Yes.”
“And when I disappeared…”
“He lost track of the pregnancy.”
I stared at Noah’s picture on my phone.
“For four years.”
Marcus nodded.
“Until the festival.”
A phone rang.
Adrian answered.
Then held it toward Marcus.
“Victor.”
Marcus put it on speaker.
“Where is my son?”
Victor laughed.
“Straight to business. Your father would be proud.”
“Where is Noah?”
“He’s safe.”
I stepped forward.
“Put him on.”
Silence.
Victor’s voice changed.
“Elena.”
My skin crawled.
“You’ve caused remarkable inconvenience.”
“Let me speak to my son.”
“You sound like your mother.”
I froze.
Marcus looked at me.
“What did you say?”
Victor continued.
“Margaret Hartwell was equally stubborn.”
My heart stopped.
My mother.
She had died in a car accident when I was twenty-one.
“What do you know about my mother?”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed.
Victor chuckled.
“You never wondered why she suddenly discouraged you from taking that internship at Vale Group?”
I remembered.
My mother had begged me to reject it.
I took it anyway.
That internship was where I met Marcus.
“She knew,” Victor said.
“Knew what?”
“Who Marcus was.”
I stared at him across the speaker as though I could see him.
“Put Noah on.”
“Sign over custodial management of the trust.”
“I don’t control it.”
“You control the child.”
Marcus stepped closer to the phone.
“If you touch him—”
“Oh, please. Spare me. We both know what you are.”
Marcus’s voice became terrifyingly calm.
“You have six hours.”
Victor laughed.
“No. You do.”
The call ended.
Adrian immediately began tracing.
“Got something.”
“Where?”
“Signal bounced, but one relay is local.”
Marcus grabbed his jacket.
“Move.”
I caught his arm.
“What about my mother?”
“Later.”
“Marcus.”
“We get Noah first.”
He was right.
I hated it.
Thirty minutes later, we were in two SUVs racing west.
Adrian traced a second signal to an abandoned equestrian estate.
Victor loved old properties because they had private roads and no public cameras.
I wore body armor beneath a black sweater.
Marcus had insisted.
This time, I didn’t argue.
At the edge of the property, he took my hand.
“I need you to stay behind Adrian.”
“I know.”
“If things go wrong—”
“Don’t.”
“Elena.”
“We are both coming back to our sons.”
His eyes held mine.
“Yes.”
Men moved through the trees.
No gunfire.
Too quiet.
We reached the house.
The front door stood open.
Inside, a cartoon played on a television.
My heart nearly stopped.
“Noah?”
I ran.
Marcus cursed and followed.
I found my son sitting on a couch.
Alone.
Alive.
“Mommy!”
I dropped to my knees.
He ran into my arms.
I sobbed.
Marcus reached us and wrapped both of us against him.
For several seconds, none of us cared about anything else.
Then Noah whispered, “The old man left.”
Marcus pulled back.
“When?”
“A little bit.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Noah shook his head.
“He gave me juice. It was gross.”
I kissed his hair.
Marcus scanned the room.
“This is wrong.”
Adrian entered.
“Clear.”
“No Victor?”
“No.”
A television screen flickered.
The cartoon disappeared.
Victor’s face appeared.
Recorded.
“If you are watching this, Marcus, congratulations. You recovered your heir.”
Marcus stood.
Victor smiled.
“But while you were rescuing one child…”
My heart stopped.
Marcus’s phone rang.
Chloe.
He answered.
Her voice was hysterical.
“Marcus!”
“What?”
“They’re inside the house!”
I grabbed the phone.
“Eli?”
Gunfire erupted through the speaker.
Chloe screamed.
Then the line went dead.
I stared at Marcus.
Noah clung to my waist.
Marcus’s face became white.
Victor’s recorded voice continued behind us.
“…you left the other completely unprotected.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Marcus grabbed my shoulders.
“Elena. Look at me.”
“Eli.”
“We’re going back.”
“We’re two hours away.”
“Helicopter.”
Adrian was already calling.
I hugged Noah.
My entire body shook.
Marcus pressed his forehead briefly to mine.
“He will be there.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
His eyes became cold.
“Because Victor doesn’t understand one thing.”
“What?”
Marcus looked toward the screen.
“He thinks this is about money.”
His hand closed around mine.
“It isn’t.”
The helicopter arrived eleven minutes later.
And as we lifted into the night, I made myself a promise.
May you like
If Victor Hale had touched my child, Marcus would no longer be the most dangerous person he needed to fear.
I would be.
Related Stories
