Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Leila’s POV
It had been a full day.
A full day since I’d last seen my son.
A full day since Ollie was declared missing.
A full day without a single hour of sleep—for Luca or me.
When Valerie called to say Ollie was nowhere to be found, we’d bolted out of bed and raced to the school. I demanded answers from the teachers and principal, but none of them could give me anything coherent.
The story was this: Valerie had stayed with Ollie to wait for the bus, keeping him in sight until she was sure he’d boarded.
She wasn’t one of the teachers traveling, so like everyone else, she went home.
But then she noticed he’d left his water bottle with her.
When she went back to return it, the school was in chaos—searching for Ollie.
One moment, he was on the bus. The next, a teacher announced a bathroom break for anyone who needed it…and that was the last time anyone saw of my son.
My chest constricted as the events replayed in my head. I couldn’t stop imagining all the ways this could end badly, no matter how hard I tried to push those thoughts away. What if I never saw him again? What if someone had hurt him?
Luca had been working closely with the Manhattan Intelligence Division (MID), a unit he’d built over the last five years to handle security threats.
They were coordinating with the few Bronx police officers who’d cooperate.
Since Luca had called off the wedding, Alpha Moreau refused to spare anyone from his own team.
Luca had even put up an enormous bounty for any real lead.
In the last twenty-four hours, seven people had come forward. Every single one a liar, looking to cash in on our desperation. Not a single credible lead.
I paced my living room, clutching Ollie’s small blanket, pressing it to my face to inhale his scent. My phone sat heavy in my hand as I waited for Luca’s update on the latest so-called informant.
Then the thought hit me—sharp and cold.
Three days ago, Elena had stood in my living room, promising to “make me pay” for stealing her fiancé. The Inspector of the MID said suspects were evaluated on three things: motive, means, and opportunity.
Elena had all three.
Motive? Revenge.
Means? She was the “Princess of the Bronx”. If she wanted someone to do her dirty work, all she had to do was pay.
Opportunity? I wouldn’t put it past her to have someone slip into the school and take my son.
I didn’t care how far-fetched it sounded. I would pull at any thread, visible or not, if it led me to Ollie.
Grabbing my phone, I didn’t bother fixing the tangled mess of my hair. I hailed a cab and gave the driver one destination: the Moreau Estate.
What was usually a twenty-five-minute ride to the Moreau Estate felt like the longest thirty minutes of my life.
Every slow-moving car in front of us, every stop sign, every red light added to the trepidation building inside me.
And not just trepidation—anger. Because, so help me God, if Elena had anything to do with my son’s disappearance, I wouldn’t care what title she gave herself.
Even if she was the fucking daughter of the King of England, she was going to see the worst part of me—the cruel part.
Everyone had one, and it only took one extremely bad circumstance to bring it to life.
The driver pulled up in front of the iron gates and zoomed off, muttering something about a “crazy woman”, but it barely registered with me. I ran toward the gate and rang the doorbell frantically.
The familiar security guard emerged, wearing an unwelcoming look. He would usually open the gate without a word, but this time he hovered, eyeing me from head to toe with clear disdain.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was cold. “Ms. Moreau specifically mentioned not to—”
“I need to speak with Elena,” I cut him off, rushing the words out, my eyes pleading. “Please, this is very important. I really need to speak to her. My son is missing, and I don’t know where he is…” My voice cracked on the last sentence. “Please, you have to help me. Please.”
His expression softened, but conflict clouded his features—like he sympathized with me, but still had a job to do.
“I’ll call her—that’s the least I can do. But if she refuses you entry, there’s nothing I can do.”
I nodded in appreciation, blinking back the tears wetting my lower eyelids as I watched him disappear into the building. Seconds later, the gate’s doors buzzed and swung open.
“She’s waiting at the gazebo,” he said.
I took off toward it, heart hammering, my chest a storm of panic, rage, and desperate hope. Hope—because if she had my son, at least I would know who had him. It was better than not knowing at all.
Elena stood on the steps of the gazebo, draped in a silk robe, her hair perfectly styled despite the late hour. The sight of her—composed, untouchable—made my fury spike.
“Well, well,” she said, her voice dripping venom.
“When the guards called to tell me they’d found a rat on my doorstep, my first instinct was to turn you away.
But then I thought—maybe you came to apologize.
And I’d love nothing more than to see you grovel, begging me not to ruin your life.
Because trust me, Leila…” Her gaze hardened. “I will.”
“I didn’t come here to apologize, Elena.”
“So, what then? You came to gloat about stealing my fiancé?” Her voice sharpened like glass.
“Where is he?” My voice was steady for half a second before it cracked.
Her brow furrowed. “Where is who?”
“Where is my son?” Desperation bled through my words. “You’ve made it clear you want to ruin me, and the easiest way would be to take the one thing that matters most—my boy. So, I’ll ask once more. Where the hell is my son?”
Instead of an answer, she clutched her stomach and burst into laughter—loud, sharp, ugly. The sound cut through the still night, echoing across the estate.
“What the hell would I want with that bastard child?”
The word hit me like a slap, but I forced myself to stay focused. “He’s missing. He vanished from school yesterday, and I know you’re behind it.”
She laughed again, colder this time. “You really think highly of yourself, don’t you? You think I’d waste my time kidnapping that little shit? That’s not my style.”
“You were furious when you came to my house. You blamed me for—”
“Because you are to blame for everything!” She stepped down two stairs, wine glass in hand, eyes glittering with malice.
“I wouldn’t be stupid enough to mess with Luca’s offspring.
He could erase me with a snap of his fingers.
If I come after you, it’ll be just you—and you’ll never see it coming.
” She took a slow sip, smiling like the devil.
“Maybe this is karma. Maybe the universe is finally making you pay for sleeping with my fiancé and ruining another woman’s life. ”
I wanted to hit her. My fists curled tight, itching to wipe that smug look off her face. But hitting her wouldn’t bring Ollie home.
I gritted my teeth. “If you’re lying—”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare threaten me on my property,” she said, voice like ice. “Get out before I have security drag you. Get out, you pathetic nobody.”
I turned, my chest burning, my hope in shreds. I had taken only a few steps when her voice rang out.
“Oh, Leila?” she called sweetly. “I hope you never find that bastard child of yours.”
As I walked out of the estate, despair crashed over me in waves. I didn’t know if I believed her. But if Elena didn’t have Ollie…who else did? Who else would want to take the sweetest four-year-old boy in the world?
My heart squeezed. God, he was just a child. He shouldn’t have to go through this. Every second without knowing where he was made my desperation swell, eroding whatever logic I had left. I would do anything—anything—to have my son in my arms again.
The shrill buzz of my phone cut through my spiraling thoughts. Unknown number. I didn’t think twice. I hit the answer.
“Hello?” My voice was frantic.
Silence.
My fingers trembled around the phone. “Ollie? Is that you?”
More silence.
“Ollie?” My voice cracked. “Baby, please talk to me.”
This time, a voice came, but it was distorted, electronically altered. “You want to see your son again?”
I froze in the middle of the road, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Is he okay? Please don’t hurt him. I beg you, I’ll do anything, I promise. Anything.”
“He’s fine. For now,” the voice said, low and menacing. “But whether he stays that way depends on you.”
“What do you want? Money? I’ll get it for you, I—”
“I don’t want your money.” The sudden sharpness in his tone made me flinch. My thoughts jumped to Ollie. He must be terrified, alone.
“There’s an abandoned warehouse on Dock Street. Pier Forty-Seven. Come alone. No police. No Luca. No backup. Just you.”
The way he said Luca’s name, in a familiar way, like he knew him. But I didn’t linger on it. All that mattered was Ollie. “How do I know you have him?”
I heard footsteps, the sound of a door opening, and then—
“Mommy?”
My breath caught. “Ollie!” Tears blurred my vision. “Baby, are you—”
The line went dead before I could complete my sentence.
I moved without thinking, wiping my face with the back of my hand as I pulled up the address for the docks on my phone. I hailed a cab. The driver frowned when I told him the location, muttering something about trouble, but I begged him, even offered double the fare. Reluctantly, he agreed.
Dock Street was an industrial graveyard—rows of rusted shipping containers, crumbling warehouses, and wide, empty lots that swallowed sound. And Pier Forty-Seven sat at the very end, lonely and silent.
I dialed the number that had called me earlier. The number wouldn’t connect anymore. So, I ventured into Pier Forty-Seven. My chest tightened as I circled the container yard, finally finding a narrow entrance.
Inside, it was pitch black. I switched on my phone’s torchlight and flashed it forward.
That was when I saw him. My son.
He was tied to a chair, head slumped forward, a blindfold over his eyes. My heart clenched so hard I could barely breathe.
I rushed toward him, but stopped short when the overhead lights snapped on, harsh and blinding. A shadow shifted behind Ollie. It was a man holding a pistol.
My blood went cold when I saw his face.
Victor Vaughn.
“Hello, Leila.” His smirk was all teeth, all venom. “Now that you’re here…shall we begin?”