Chapter 16 Keira
SIXTEEN
KEIRA
It's been a few long days since the last incident and, thankfully, I haven't run into Ewan or been forced to eat dinner with him. My mornings feel a little less heavy, and my mind is finally clearing enough that I can start plotting our escape.
Hale is already awake when I open his door.
He sits cross-legged on his bed, hair still wild from sleep, looking down at a book on his lap. He's not reading, but he loves to pretend and make up his own version of the story based on the pictures.
He looks up when he hears me and smiles like he's been waiting all morning to see me.
That smile is what keeps me going every single day.
I cross the room and kneel in front of him, smoothing his hair back with my fingers. He smells like soap and sleep and something sweet I can never name but love so intensely.
"Good morning, my love bug. How did you sleep?"
He nuzzles into me. "Good, Mommy. I missed you."
"I always miss you."
He smiles and I give him a kiss on the cheek.
"Listen, I have to go into town for a little bit. Just running some errands, but I'll be back before your lessons are done this morning."
He deflates immediately. "With him? Can I come too?"
I shake my head. "No, baby. I would take you if I could, but I'm not allowed."
"The guards?"
I sigh, already defeated. "Sadly."
"That's okay, Mommy." He pulls me into a big hug.
I press a kiss to his forehead and stay in the moment as long as possible. My chest tightens for no reason—just the same anxiety I always get when I have to leave his side. I trace the curve of his cheek, the faint scar at his eyebrow from when he tripped in the garden at the old house.
"I'll be back soon."
"Okay. I love you."
"I love you the most."
I leave before the lump in my throat gets too big.
I move through town on autopilot. The guards stay close. Two shadows at all times, and I've stopped trying to shake them at this point.
I do what I'm told. Move through shops. Purchase items from the list. Nod when spoken to. Keep my head down. I'm trying really hard to be good for Hale. In order to escape, I need Ewan to trust me enough to lay off my back for a bit.
The SUV windows are blacked out both ways. I can't track where we are or how we get back to the estate, but my body feels something is wrong before we even pull in.
I don't know if it's instinct or paranoia anymore. The house feels wrong the moment I step inside.
Most of the guards aren't in their usual places. Another rotation. Another reshuffling I wasn't told about.
I hand the bags to a staff member who won't meet my eyes and head toward the study where Hale should be finishing his lessons.
Except he isn't there.
The chair by the window sits empty. His pencils are gone. The half-finished drawing from yesterday is missing from the desk.
I check my watch. They still had thirty minutes left.
Cold, quiet dread settles over me.
I take the stairs two at a time.
His bedroom door is already open. The second I step inside, all the air is torn from my lungs.
The bed is stripped bare, the mattress exposed. All the shelves are empty, and his big brown toy chest is gone. Even the rug has been rolled away, leaving pale rectangular marks on the floor where it used to sit.
Everything is gone. Like my baby was never here at all.
My heart slams against my ribs erratically. For the first time in months, I'm not certain I can control it.
I move through the house dizzy. I can't get enough air, no matter how hard I try.
Ewan's office is locked. The dining room is empty. He's nowhere.
The urge to scream sits in my throat like broken glass.
I stop a staff member in the hall, fingers closing around her wrist before I can think better of it. "Where is he? Where is Ewan?"
She won't look at me. "He's unavailable, Mrs. Calder."
I'm going to fucking kill him.
I'm going to burn this house down.
I head straight for the east wing and step into the security office. The man behind the desk stiffens when he sees me, shoulders going rigid like he was briefed on this earlier.
"Where is my son?"
He doesn't hesitate. "Hale has been moved to the first floor."
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
"A full-time nanny has been assigned," he continues, like he's reading from a report someone handed him this morning. "Mr. Calder felt it would be better for the child's routine."
"Where is Ewan?"
He ignores me. "You've been under a lot of stress, Mrs. Calder. This will give you time to rest. It's for your own good."
What?
I stand there frozen—seconds, minutes, I don't even know. Then I hear myself thank him before turning to leave.
I don't know why I do it. Survival instinct, maybe. Showing emotion here is the same as bleeding out in front of predators.
I walk down the hallway, pressing my palm to my chest like I can hold the pain in.
Tears streak down my face before I can stop them.
He's taking my son from me, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
Hale's laugh echoes down the hallway before I see him. I follow the sound, trying really hard not to break into a full sprint.
The door to a room I've never been inside stands open. Sunlight pours through tall windows, warming hardwood floors I didn't know existed. How did I not see this part of the house? Did Ewan hide it from me on purpose?
There are new toys scattered all over a brand-new rug. A low table is fully stocked with shiny art supplies. Several bookshelves are filled with all sorts of books—ones I know Hale will love.
I wish I had been part of this. But no, he has me running grocery errands even though we have a chef and a buyer.
Hale sits cross-legged on the floor, carefully stacking wooden blocks into a tower.
A smiling woman kneels beside him, helping. She has dark hair pulled back into a neat bun, and she seems to be wearing some sort of cream-colored uniform. She's young and pretty.
I just stand and watch.
The way she hands him pieces before he even asks. The way she praises him softly when he gets the angle right. The way he responds to her voice without looking up, like he's already used to it.
Then he leans into her side.
As if he's known her for weeks instead of hours.
The woman notices me then.
"Mrs. Calder," she says warmly. "How lovely. We were just building a tower, weren't we, Hale?" She glances down at him with such gentle affection it makes my stomach knot. Then she looks up at me again. "Mama needs to rest though, sweetheart. We're having a quiet afternoon."
Mama needs to rest.
As if motherhood is a shift you clock out of.
Hale looks up at me. His face lights up the way it always does. "Hi, Mamma."
My heart cracks clean down the middle. "Hi, baby."
I start to step inside, but the woman rises, crossing the space between us before I can enter. She moves into my path, forcing me back into the hallway with nothing more than her presence and that fake, immovable smile.
"Hale will be up to visit after you've had some time to rest, Mrs. Calder."
The words are soft. Kind, even.
Definitely not a suggestion.
"I don't need to rest. I need to see my son."
"Of course you do." Her smile doesn't waver. "But Mr. Calder feels it would be best if we stick to the new routine. For Hale's sake, of course."
I try to look past her, desperate to see his face. He might be confused or upset or scared.
But he's already turned back to his new toys.
This woman is trying to replace me.
She's been given permission to do everything I do. Touch him. Soothe him. Read to him. Be the one he reaches for when he's hurt or afraid.
And he's letting her.
Because he doesn't know any better.
Because to him, she's just another kind face in a house full of them.
"I'm sure you understand," the woman murmurs gently, her hand resting on the doorframe. "Strict orders."
Then she steps back and closes the door in my face.
I stand in the hallway staring at the wood for a long time. My reflection is warped and barely visible in the polished surface.
My hands are shaking.
My throat is closing.
I can't breathe.
But I turn and walk away before I make another mistake.
Before I cry. Before I scream. Before I beg.
Before Hale hears me break and learns that his mother is powerless.
That she can't protect him.
That she's already lost.
I was just a role Ewan needed filled. A name on paper. A face at dinner parties. Something to use and break at his leisure.
And now that he's decided I'm no longer useful in the way he wants, he's taking the only thing that made any of this bearable.