Chapter 2 - Ruby
My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat as I watch the stranger grab Marcus's wrist and yank him backward. Marcus stumbles, his expensive loafers scraping against the wooden porch, arms windmilling as he fights for balance.
I've never seen this man before in my life, but right now he looks like an avenging angel, if angels had tattoos covering their arms and wore leather vests over black t-shirts.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" my father demands, his face turning that familiar shade of purple that used to terrify me as a child. "You can't just assault people!"
"I stopped him from touching her door without permission," the stranger says, his voice deadly calm. "That's not assault. That's preventing one."
Liam whimpers against my shoulder, his little fingers clutching my shirt. I bounce him gently, trying to soothe him even though my own hands are shaking. Two days. I've been in this house for two days, and they already found me. I thought I'd been so careful, thought I'd covered my tracks.
But I underestimated how obsessed they'd become with taking my baby.
"Ruby, please," my mother tries again, her voice dripping with that false sweetness that makes my skin crawl. "Be reasonable. You're barely twenty years old. You can't raise a child alone. Let us help you. Let us take Liam somewhere safe, somewhere he'll have a real family—"
"I am his real family!" The words tear out of me, sharp and desperate. "I'm his mother!"
"You're a child playing house," Marcus says, finally regaining his balance. He straightens his polo shirt. "You always were immature, Ruby. That's why this was never going to work between us."
The audacity of this man. The sheer fucking audacity.
"You told me you loved me," I say, my voice breaking despite my best efforts to stay strong. "You said you wanted a future with me. And the second I told you I was pregnant, you blocked my number and told everyone I was trying to trap you."
"Because you were!" Marcus's mask slips, showing the cruel man underneath. "We were careful. You must have done something to sabotage the condoms—"
"Oh, fuck off," the stranger interrupts, and there's genuine disgust in his tone. "You really going to stand here and blame her for a broken condom? Man up and admit you're a coward who ran when things got hard."
Marcus's face flushes red. "This has nothing to do with you! Stay out of our business!"
"She asked you to leave. You didn't. That makes it my business." The stranger crosses his arms over his chest, and I can see more tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves. His biceps flex with the movement, and Marcus's eyes track the motion nervously.
Good. He should be nervous.
"We're not leaving without our grandson," my father says, his voice taking on that authoritative tone he always used when he wanted to end an argument.
"Ruby, you have two choices. Either come home with us and we'll help you raise Liam properly or sign over custody to us so we can place him with your cousin Jennifer and her husband.
They've been trying for a baby for years—"
"So you planned to steal my son and give him to Jennifer?" The betrayal cuts deeper than I thought possible. "You actually planned this?"
My mother has the decency to look uncomfortable. "It's not stealing, sweetheart. It's what's best for everyone. Jennifer can provide everything Liam needs—"
"I provide everything Liam needs!" I'm shouting now, and Liam starts to cry. I immediately lower my voice, rocking him gently. "Shh, baby. It's okay. Mama's got you."
"Look at him," Marcus says, gesturing toward Liam like he's evidence in a trial. "He's crying because he can sense how stressed you are. Children need stability, Ruby. They need a calm environment. You can't give him that."
"He's crying because strange people are shouting on his porch," the stranger says flatly. "Any kid would cry."
Marcus rounds on him. "I've had enough of you. Either get lost or I'm calling the cops."
The stranger laughs, and it's not a nice sound. "Go ahead. Call them. Tell them you're harassing a single mother who's asked you to leave her property multiple times. Let's see how that works out for you."
"She's our daughter!" my father explodes. "We have rights!"
"And I’ve told you that she's an adult who told you to leave. You've got no rights here." The stranger takes a step forward, putting himself between my family and the door. Between them and me. "Last chance. Walk away now, or I make you walk away."
Marcus's hands curl into fists at his sides. I can see the rage building in him, the same rage he showed the night I told him I was pregnant. When he'd grabbed my arms and shaken me, calling me stupid and careless and a million other cruel things.
"You think you can intimidate me?" Marcus's voice drops low, dangerous. "You think because you've got some tattoos and a motorcycle you're tough?"
"I think you should walk away while you still can," the stranger says calmly.
"Fuck you."
Marcus lunges.
It happens so fast I almost miss it. Marcus throws himself at the stranger, his fist swinging wild and uncontrolled. The stranger doesn't even look surprised. He just shifts his weight, turns his body slightly to the side, and Marcus's fist hits nothing but air.
The momentum carries Marcus forward, off-balance.
The stranger's fist comes up in a powerful uppercut that catches Marcus square in the nose.
The sound is horrible. A wet crunch that makes my stomach turn.
Marcus screams, stumbling backward. Blood pours from his nose, streaming down his chin and staining his nice polo shirt.
His hands fly to his face, cupping his nose as he makes these awful whimpering sounds.
"Marcus!" My mother rushes toward him, but my father grabs her arm.
"Don't," he says. He's staring at the stranger with pure hatred. "You broke his nose. You're going to pay for this."
"He swung first," the stranger says, shaking out his hand casually. "That's self-defense. Ask anyone."
"There's no one else here!" my father shouts.
"I saw it," I say, my voice stronger than I expect. "Marcus attacked him. He was defending himself."
My father's gaze swings to me, and I see the disappointment there. The disgust. It's the same look he gave me when I told them I was pregnant, when I refused to "take care of it" like they wanted.
"You always were ungrateful," he says. "We gave you everything. A good home, a good education, money for college. And this is how you repay us? By spreading your legs for the first boy who shows you attention, getting knocked up, and then running away like a criminal?"
Each word is a knife, cutting deeper than any physical wound. Liam cries harder, sensing my distress, and I hold him tighter.
"You kicked me out," I remind him, my voice shaking. "You told me I was a whore and a slut. You said I was dead to you. So, I became dead to you. You don't get to come back now and pretend you care."
"We care about that innocent baby," my mother says, tears streaming down her face. "He doesn't deserve to suffer because of your mistakes."
"He's not suffering! He's loved and fed and safe!"
"He's living in this dump!" My father gestures at the small rental house with disgust. "Look at this place, Ruby. You can barely afford rent. How are you going to afford diapers? Food? Medical care? What happens when he gets sick?"
The words hit too close to my deepest fears. The fears that keep me awake at night, staring at the ceiling and wondering if I'm enough. If my love is enough when I can barely keep us fed.
"I'll figure it out," I say, but my voice wavers.
"You don't have to figure it out alone," my mother pleads. "Just come home. We'll help you. We'll—"
"You'll take my baby." I cut her off. "That's what this is really about. You don't want to help me. You want to take him and give him to Jennifer because you're embarrassed by me. Because having a twenty-year-old single mother for a daughter doesn't fit your perfect family image."
My mother flinches, and I know I've hit the truth. Marcus is still holding his nose, blood dripping between his fingers.
"You bitch," he spits at me. "You crazy bitch. You're going to regret this. I'll take you to court. I'll prove you're an unfit mother—"
"With what money?" the stranger asks, his voice cutting through Marcus's threats. "You planning to pay child support while you fight for custody? Because that's how this works. You can't just show up after two years of nothing and demand rights."
"It's been two years because she ran away!" Marcus shouts. "She kept my son from me!"
"Your son?" I can't believe what I'm hearing. "You wanted me to abort him! You told me to get rid of the problem!"
"I was scared! I was young!" Marcus's voice turns pleading. "But I've grown up, Ruby. I'm ready to be a father now. Let me prove it. Let me—"
"No." The word comes out firm, final. "You had your chance. You made your choice. And I made mine. I chose my son. I choose him every single day."
"Ruby—" my mother starts.
"Get off my property." I'm not shouting anymore. My voice is cold and steady. "All of you. Get off my property right now, or I'm calling the police."
"You can't—" my father begins.
"I can." I meet his eyes, refusing to back down. "This is my home. You're trespassing. And you just witnessed your buddy here assault my neighbor. So, unless you want me to press charges, I suggest you leave."
The stranger nods approvingly. "You heard her. Time to go."
My father's jaw works, and I can see him calculating. Weighing his options. He's always been strategic, always thinking three steps ahead. But right now, he's got nothing. No leverage, no power.
"This isn't over," he says finally. "We'll be back with lawyers. With court orders. And we will get our grandson."
"You do that," I say. "But you're not getting him today. So, leave."
Marcus pulls his hands away from his face, revealing a nose that's already swelling, already turning purple. Blood covers his chin and neck. "You're going to pay for this," he tells the stranger. "I'm pressing charges."
"Go ahead." The stranger sounds completely unconcerned. "Like I said, self-defense. You swung first."
Marcus opens his mouth, then closes it. He knows he's beaten.
My mother is crying openly now, mascara running down her cheeks. "Ruby, please. Please don't do this. That baby needs—"
"His mother." I cut her off. "He needs his mother. And I'm right here. I've always been right here."
My father grabs my mother's arm, pulling her toward the porch steps. "Come on, Helen. We're wasting our time."
Marcus follows them, still cupping his bleeding nose. As they reach the bottom of the steps, he turns back to glare at me. "This isn't over, Ruby. You can't hide from us forever."
"I'm not hiding," I tell him. "I'm living. There's a difference."
They walk away, my parents' expensive car parked at the curb. Marcus gets in the back seat, probably trying not to bleed on the leather. My mother looks back at me one more time, her face crumpling with grief, before my father practically shoves her into the passenger seat.
The engine starts. They drive away.
And just like that, it's over.
My legs give out. I slide down against the doorframe, clutching Liam to my chest as he cries and cries. My whole body shakes with adrenaline and fear and relief all mixed together.
The stranger turns around, and I see him clearly for the first time. He's young, maybe mid-twenties, fully tattooed with dark hair and brown eyes that look older than they should.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice surprisingly gentle.
I want to say yes. I want to be strong and capable and prove to him, and to myself, that I can handle this.
Instead, I burst into tears.