Chapter 48 – Gabriella
Isnapped.
I acted without thinking.
Even now, the rational part of my brain was silent, as if a stone had fallen on it, burying it under layers of instinct. What burst out of my mind, coming through the walls I had put in place to block the pain, was raw and unfiltered.
I was possessed.
That woman had set my nine-month-old son on a couch while she yelled into her phone.
And then when the child wriggled off, diving headfirst onto the carpet, she had the audacity to turn around and blame him.
She didn’t scoop him into her arms. She didn’t comfort him or check if he was okay.
She yelled at the phone, she yelled at the baby, and I’d seen enough.
Now I was standing there, Luca clutched tightly to my chest, glaring daggers at his adopted mom—the lady that the state had deemed capable of taking care of such a beautiful treasure.
“You yelled at him,” I barked, not backing down.
Because if I didn’t latch onto the anger and tear this woman apart from limb to limb, my heart threatened to stop beating. The cracks, the chaos, were too much. I would bleed out if I didn’t act.
“I’m having a bad day,” Linda Carmichael sobbed. “My husband is cheating on me, and I just…I don’t know. I freaked. I—I’m not a bad mom! I swear it! I love him more than life, but…I never meant to hurt him. I just…it’s too much!”
She shoved her hands through her hair. Her Botox face didn’t bend under the weight of her emotions.
I cuddled the baby closer, stroking his impossibly soft hair.
He was here.
In my arms.
I ruined everything.
O, Madonna mia…what had I done?
Before I could decide whether to rip the woman a new hole, or perhaps show her a bit of empathy, the air shifted.
Energy crackled along my back.
The room grew tense as the living storm approached. A beastly shadow stretched across the floor, ready to swallow mine. Panic surged through me, shooting to my throat. I clutched Luca tightly. This might be it. The only time I was able to hold him.
My secret was exposed.
I’d played my hand too soon, exposed myself to the beast.
The only option was to fall to my knees and beg for mercy.
And if Liam gave it, there were still the facts of the case before me. It was entirely possible I was going to go to jail for this outburst. It was supposed to be a closed adoption, and yet, here I was breaking and entering, holding the boy I planned to kidnap.
Those thoughts raced through my head, but the deep, masculine rumble that shook the room brought a chilling calm. “What will it cost to take the boy?”
The poor civilian mother screamed. She clutched her throat and fumbled with her fingers on the phone.
Cavolo! She was going to call the police.
It was all over!
It never had a chance to begin.
Pain cracked through my ribs, and I couldn’t breathe past the sob building inside me.
Liam brushed past me, taking quick steps, and plucked the device from Linda’s hands.
“The boy doesn’t belong to you,” he said. “Especially if what my wife witnessed was true, and you put him in danger.”
The woman burst into tears and sank into the armchair—a creamy, hand-crafted, expensively designed chair.
“I’m going to ask again,” Liam said, squatting in front of her, hands folded around her phone, elbows resting on his knees. “What will it cost to take the boy and bring him back to his birth mother?”
My breath hitched in my throat. Liam had heard the truth.
He…wasn’t angry. No! He was suggesting that Luca come back to me. There was no way I heard him correctly!
I took a step forward.
“I don’t know,” the woman said. “I never wanted to be a mom, but it was on my husband’s five-year plan. When we couldn’t conceive—which wasn’t a problem with me, although he refused to get tested—we settled for adoption. I’ve done the best I could. I swear I’m not a bad mom.”
Linda was hysterical. She was rambling. She was miserable.
“No,” I agreed. “You’re not a bad mom. I’ve seen you take good care of him.” But you don’t love him.
“My lawyer will be here any minute,” Liam said, rising. “She’ll walk us through the situation.”
The woman nodded numbly, staring into space.
This wasn’t real. Any moment I would wake and find it was just a dream.
I bit my tongue.
A shot of pain barked through my nervous system.
Reality didn’t fade. I wasn’t asleep. Which meant…my secret wasn’t in danger.
I looked at him then. Really and truly looked. Curious, bright brown eyes stared back at me. The baby didn’t resist the comfort I offered. In fact, Luca had quit crying.
He’s here. My boy was here. I was holding him. Tucking him tightly against my side, I smiled.
Luca let out a hesitant whimper. He didn’t fuss. He didn’t fight to go back to the only motherly figure he’d known. He seemed…content.
“O, porca miseria, his head,” I muttered.
I bounced him in my arms, twisting to better examine his bump.
“Is he okay?” Linda asked.
“He’s got a lump,” I said, my insides melting at the sight. “Can I go to the kitchen and look for an ice pack?”
She nodded. “Bottom drawer of the freezer, left side.”
By the time I found it, brought it back, and sat down on the couch, Liam and Linda were talking.
“My husband always wanted kids. He pushed and pushed,” she began, “but when we couldn’t conceive, I went and got tested. Just to find out, you know? The problem wasn’t with me, and he refused to get tested! So, the next best option was adoption.”
It was the story she’d already told. I listened intently as I tried to keep the frozen pack on Luca’s bump.
The baby wriggled and protested.
Storm chose that moment to hop on the sofa beside me. I gasped, but the puppy already had his snout pushed against Luca’s tummy.
My son laughed.
The sound was pure magic.
Linda sighed. “These last nine months have been the hardest of my life. Not only that, but I found out just last week that, on top of blaming me for our fertility problems, my piece-of-shit husband has been keeping a mistress out in the suburbs. She has three children, and he’s paying for sports, private school, and everything else they want.
It’s been going on for two years. That’s why he’s never home with Brady and—”
“Luca,” I corrected her. “His name is Luca.”
She lifted her shoulders. “I suppose it is.”
I felt the beast shift his gaze to me.
My breath hitched. Did I dare look at him? What if he was angry? This was the answer he’d wanted, and now that he had it, anything could happen.
Divorce.
My execution.
He’ll never hurt you.
But my only priority was keeping this precious secret safe. No matter what happened to me.
“He looks like you, you know,” Linda commented.
I ran my hands over the baby’s chubby little arms, relieved that he wasn’t trying to wriggle out when the ice pack became too cold.
The puppy had a lot to do with that. Leaning over, I plucked one of the flannel blankets, which were tucked under the footstool where the rest of the baby stuff was kept out of sight and mind to keep the house pristine.
This was the only window to a life that had been stolen from me, and I’d memorized this space from afar.
The blanket fluttered open. Gently, I tucked it around Luca’s lap.
And he immediately fisted it and shoved it in his mouth.
The front door opened and closed, and I shot to my feet, prepared to flee. I gripped the baby tightly, body shaking with a fresh burst of fear.
“We’re in here,” Liam barked, not bothered in the slightest.
It was only Amanda, followed by Connor.
Relief sent me sagging back onto the sofa. My adrenaline-drenched body couldn’t take much more of this insanity. But I had to hang tight. I had to see this through. There was no sweeping it under the rug and pretending the incident never happened.
Santa Maria, preserve us.
“According to what I received in a text message,” the lawyer said, diving straight into business mode and losing no time, “there seems to be a dispute about an adoption.”
Linda nodded feebly. “I suppose there is. If she wants to pursue her legal right as his mother, I won’t object. But my husband will have another say in this matter. It was supposed to be a closed adoption. He’ll say our rights were violated.”
Amanda looked at me.
I wanted to tell her that I wouldn’t be able to live without this little boy, but the words wouldn’t form. Maybe she read the pain on my face. Her lips flattened, and she kept her posture ramrod straight. Unbending. My pleas would fall on deaf ears if she went against me.
“Did you sign away your parental rights willingly?” she asked, brow arched. “Or can I assume from what I’ve heard about your situation”—she flicked her hand at me, almost dismissively—“that perhaps you were coerced?”
I scoffed a laugh. “Coerced doesn’t even describe it.”
Liam rose. I followed him from the corner of my eye as he went to Connor. They spoke low, in that lilting language, animatedly moving their hands about. Liam cursed, pushed a hand through his hair, and then adjusted the mask on his face. The expression on his face didn’t feel safe.
No, NO!
I was going to crack from the whiplash of emotions hitting me.
“Well,” said Amanda, turning to Linda. “I can file a lawsuit, but it’ll be long and expensive. It’ll drain your accounts. We can go the faster route and claim neglect.”
“But I didn’t do that!” Linda gasped.
The adoptive mother turned to me, eyes brimming with fresh tears.
“It’s the first time he’s fallen off the couch,” Linda protested. “I’ve been able to put him there before, and he’s been just fine.”
“She’s not neglectful,” I breathed.
Would it be easy to fall into that narrative? Sure. And if it got me my son, I might have done it. But it was a bold-faced lie.
This woman had been good to my boy, even if she hadn’t wanted him in the first place.
“That leaves us in a tricky situation,” Amanda mused.