“Mom,” he whispered, not looking up. “You shouldn’t have come back.”
My heart dropped.
“What do you mean?”
He swallowed. His eyes were wet but he didn’t cry.
“When you show up, Dad gets angry. Then people get hurt. I don’t want them to hit you again. I can stay. I’m used to it.”
I broke.
I pulled him close, crying into his hair, holding him so tight my chest hurt. “I’m sorry,” I kept whispering. “I’m so sorry.”
He was eight. Fear raised him faster than love ever could.
Then my phone rang.
My parents.
“Come home now,” my mother snapped. “Bring the child.”
“Why?” I said, still holding Ryle.
“Don’t play dumb,” she barked. “If you don’t show up today, you’ll regret it.”
The call ended.
I didn’t argue. I took Ryle and went.
....
Their house was nothing like before. New gates. Guards. Expensive cars lined up like trophies. Power everywhere. That was where the Vanderbilt favor went.
The moment I stepped inside, my mother slapped me. Hard. My head snapped to the side.
She spat at me.
“You shameless thing! How dare you upset Roxanne while she’s pregnant. Do you want to kill her babies?”
Babies. Plural.
“You went online,” she screamed. “You made her bleed. She’s carrying twins. If anything happens, I’ll bury you myself.”
Ryle shook beside me. He bowed his head.
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” he whispered. “I’ll be good. Please don’t hit Mommy. Please don’t hit me.”
Something inside me shattered.
My father kicked me in the stomach. I crashed to the floor, coughing blood.
“You should’ve stayed with your criminal lover,” he roared. “You ruined David and Roxanne’s happiness.”
The door opened.
Roxanne.
My mother’s face changed instantly. She shoved me aside and rushed to her.
“Are you scared? Did she hurt you?”
Roxanne saw me and stepped back like I was dangerous.
“Why is she here?” she asked softly. “Did she say bad things about me again? I never wanted to take her husband. I’m really sorry, sister.”
My parents shielded her immediately.
My father pointed at the door.
“Take your face and that child and get out.”
Roxanne cried quietly, hiding her face.
That was when I stopped crying.
I smiled. Small. Bitter.
A year of kidnapping hadn’t broken me like this. My family did it in minutes.
Then David arrived, gifts in his arms, men behind him filling the room with pressure. When he saw me, his face turned cold.
“What are you doing here?”