Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
SOREN
Why did I invite Cressida and her son to my house for dinner?
At first, I considered her an annoyance.
Somehow, she’s worked her way into my life, into the parts of me I keep behind walls of steel.
I’m not the type to focus on a woman like this.
I don’t do attachments. I don’t have soft spots.
And yet, here she is. It’s not just lust or a passing convenience.
It’s quieter, deeper, something I’m not used to, something I don’t know I can handle.
It isn’t easy because I’ve never once focused on a woman the way I focus on her.
I always thought doing so would hinder me and my career.
Sure, I could fuck a woman, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give them anything more.
Not that Cressida would ask for anything.
She is definitely not the type for that.
I had to argue with her just to get her to accept my job offer.
So, I know it’s not the money side of things that is keeping her around.
I check my watch again, noting that she’s late.
The chef almost has dinner ready.
She said her son’s favorite food is pizza, so I got the chef to make pizza, mac and cheese, salad, and some cupcakes, since I’m not sure what a kid eats. I had to Google it.
I try calling her, but she doesn’t answer.
When I call a second time, it’s her ex-husband who answers the phone. “She can’t talk right now,” he says with venom in his voice.
“Why not?”
“Because we’re trying to find our fucking son,” he growls, then hangs up.
What does he mean by that?
My phone rings, and I accept the call, not realizing it’s Boston.
“Soren.”
“Yes.”
“We have an issue.”
“What type of issue?” I ask.
“Cressida is at the police station, talking to an officer.”
“Okay…” I reply, confused.
“Her son is missing.” I clutch the edge of the countertop until my knuckles turn white. “It gets worse.” He pauses. “I hacked the school’s cameras, and nothing came up. So, I searched around the area, found a convenience store across the road with a camera, and asked to see their footage.”
It’s only been two hours since I left her. How could this all happen in that time span? I know she was going straight to the school to collect Oliver. He goes to an after-school program for working parents. I assumed she would pick him up and come straight here.
She didn’t.
And now I know why.
“Look, I haven’t shared it yet. But you might want to know.”
“What?”
“It was Maya, Soren. Maya has him.”
Jesus Christ! My heart drops into my stomach.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s Maya I saw walking off with him. And I think you might have an hour or so before Cressida and her ex find out. This is a child, Soren. Fix it.” He hangs up.
I tell the chef to leave and that I will pay him for his time, and then I call my sister.
She doesn’t answer.
Pulling up the tracker I have on her phone, I easily find her location.
I stop the car outside the familiar house, our childhood home, which I had to sell after Dad died to pay off his debts.
As soon as I had the money to do so, I bought it back.
It’s been sitting empty ever since. I gave Maya the keys to the place many years ago, and while I send someone around every three months to mow the lawns, I don’t really do much else for it.
The grass is currently overgrown, and the hedges need a really good trim.
I think I bought it for her so she could hold on to some good memories—what few there are. I figured she might want to live in it, but it turns out she likes the life of luxury a lot more.
I get out of the car, head up the path to the front door, and don’t bother knocking, since I own the place, rage boiling up inside of me at what she has done.
To the only woman I have ever cared about more than her.
When I walk inside, I find Oliver sitting on the floor opposite my sister, and they are playing a game of Monopoly.
They both turn to look at me. Maya smiles, and Oliver looks at me curiously, not knowing who I am or why I’m here.
“Your mother has been looking for you, Oliver. Please call her.” I offer him my phone, and he gets up and takes it. He presses the call button on her contact, which reads ‘Hurricane’, and this time she answers straight away.
“Soren.”
“Mom?” Oliver says.
“Oliver! Oh, my God. Are you okay? Where are you, and why are you with Soren?”
“This lady came to my school and said I needed to go with her to meet up with you and your boyfriend,” he explains.
My gaze narrows at Maya, who sits there and smiles, like she’s done nothing wrong.
This is a new low, so fucking low of her.
I try to contain my anger around Oliver, who clearly has no idea what has happened.
Maya’s eyes flick to me, and concern is there, but she can tell that I’m trying to contain my anger right now.
“Are you all right? Please tell me you’re okay,” she rushes out.
“Yes, I’m good. We had dinner and were playing a game. Can I come home now?”
“Yes. Yes. Please hand the phone back to Soren for me so I can get the address.” He looks up at me and hands me the phone.
“Hurricane.”
“Don’t you fucking ‘Hurricane’ me. It was your crazy-ass sister who took my son?” She waits a breath for me to answer.
“Yes.”
“Where is he? Tell me right now.”
“It’s twenty minutes outside of the city. I’ll send you the address.”
“I’m already in Noah’s car. We’re on our way,” she says and hangs up.
I shake my head at Maya.
“Do you play games?” Oliver asks me.
I look down at him and see an innocent boy, having no idea what just happened. “Not really,” I answer him truthfully.
“So, what do you do for fun?” he asks.
I glance at Maya to see her watching us. She bites her lip as she watches, and I look back down at him.
“I practice boxing.” I think that’s better than saying I like the rush of making others bleed by my hands.
“Can you teach me how to fight? The boys are mean at my school,” he chirps up at his words.
“He’s really good,” Maya chimes in.
My eyes narrow at her before I look back to Oliver. “Oliver, could you please go see if the light works in that back room?” I point, he nods, and he goes to check it out.
Once he’s gone, I squat down so I’m eye-level with Maya.
The house might be in a nice neighborhood, but inside it’s a different story.
The floors are dull and sticky underfoot, the kind of grime that only comes from months of neglect.
Dust clings to the furniture, and the air carries a faint musty dampness that makes me wonder if there’s mold creeping behind the wallpaper.
The carpet has seen better days—matted, stained, and far from what it once was.
Every corner whispers of wasted money and lost pride.
“What have you done?” I ask her.
“You can’t start a new family without me, Soren,” she answers.
I take a slow breath, steadying myself.
“You just ended ours.”