Chapter Thirteen: A Father’s Shadow

Anastasia Greene Johnson

My jaw practically hit the floor when the two people emerged from the stall.

Lara. The flirtatious bartender from the lounge.

But she wasn’t the reason my heart started hammering like a prisoner rattling the bars.

It was the man beside her.

No.

No, no, no. There’s no way. . .

I slapped a trembling hand over my mouth, strangling the gasp threatening to escape.

Because it was none other than the rising young star—Alexander friggin’ Robertson.

Holy mother of God.

So it wasn’t enough for Lara to flirt with practically every customer and member of staff. Now she’s moonlighting as a paid escort for a celebrity?

Absolutely ridiculous.

As if the day hadn’t already served up enough nonsense, Lara reached for Alexander’s arm. He recoiled as though she’d touched him with a live wire and immediately shook her off.

“Don’t be such a stranger,” she purred, flashing him a suggestive smile. “I’ve already washed my hands and brushed my teeth. Want a goodbye kiss? Look—minty fresh!”

She breathed towards him and bared her teeth like she was auditioning for a toothpaste advert.

Alexander looked positively green. “I told you—we’re strangers. Keep it that way,” he snapped.

She pouted, spun on her heel and sashayed away with the theatricality of a rejected actress.

Alexander, clearly running on the last thread of his patience, muttered a string of curses before pulling on his cap, sunglasses and mask.

He turned to leave—

Then stopped. He slowly turned back, sweeping his gaze across the washroom like a searchlight hunting for something hidden.

My heart went into overdrive.

He didn’t see me.

He couldn’t have.

Thankfully, his gaze didn’t linger. He simply walked out.

Thank God.

What a nightmare.

I’d never particularly liked Lara, and neither did most of the staff. She was a shameless flirt who made a habit of chatting up almost every male employee and customer in sight. Her work ethic wasn’t exactly inspiring either. She took days off as though they were complimentary perks, usually accompanied by some flimsy excuse.

I’d never understood why Mrs. Stanfield continued putting up with her. Perhaps she was simply too kind-hearted to throw her out.

But Alexander?! Really?

My first thought was that Mrs. Stanfield would be devastated if she ever found out.

Then another, more sensible voice in my head intervened.

Who are you to judge him?

He’s a grown man, not a teenager.

And, annoyingly enough, that was true. He was young, presumably single, and at an age when impulse could easily outrun common sense.

Still, my opinion of him had shifted slightly. I’d always assumed he was somewhat shy and socially awkward.

Apparently not. Celebrity or not, he was still a man.

“Whatever. I’m just going to wash up and get out of here,” I muttered.

__________________________________________________________________________

“Mama!”

Ruslan came sprinting towards me like a cat chasing a yarn ball, wrapping himself around my leg as though I might vanish if he let go.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming today!”

Of course he was excited. I rarely got the chance to collect him from school because of work. Usually, the school bus—or Justin’s family driver—took him home.

I was a little late, but seeing his face light up still warmed something deep inside me. I scooped him into my arms.

“Yeah. I left work early to come and get you. Are you happy?”

He grinned like the Cheshire Cat and nodded enthusiastically, wrapping his little arms around my neck.

“I’m so happy. I wish you could come every day like Justin’s mum.” He planted a soft kiss on my cheek.

I smiled, though it hurt a little.

I wanted that too. But I needed my job to pay his school fees and keep a roof over our heads. Unlike me, Justin’s mother owned a luxury boutique with employees who could handle things in her absence. She could afford to step away whenever she pleased.

Justin’s father worked in finance and was equally busy.

The Dixons were comfortably wealthy.

“Ana, it’s been ages since I last saw you.”

Mrs. Elena Dixon approached with a broad smile. She wore a classy jumpsuit, a designer handbag hanging from one arm and Justin’s hand clasped in the other.

Elena was the only parent from Ruslan’s school I really knew. Ruslan often stayed at their house to play with Justin.

I generally kept my distance from the other parents. Most were older, wealthier and far more established than me, and the school itself was rather prestigious for an elementary school. I was always terrified I’d say something stupid and embarrass myself—and, by extension, Ruslan.

But Elena was different. Despite being seven or eight years older than me and holding a degree in fashion design, she was remarkably down-to-earth. When Ruslan and Justin became friends, she’d made a genuine effort to get to know me.

Her warmth made it easy to relax around her.

“Yes, it has,” I replied with a smile.

“Why the sudden visit, though? Is Ruslan all right?” she asked, concern flickering across her face.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. He’s perfectly fine. I just. . . wanted to come today. It’s been ages, and I thought it would make him happy.” The lie slipped out effortlessly.

Because I couldn’t exactly tell her the truth.

Except for Brynn, nobody knew that the past I’d buried hadn’t stayed buried or the husband I’d told everyone was dead was very much alive. And that Ethan had come crawling back into my life.

Elena seemed satisfied and smiled. “Good. You should come more often.”

Then her face brightened.

“Why don’t we grab a coffee? There’s a nice café nearby.”

Oh, God. Not today.

I couldn’t risk hanging around outside with Ethan back in my life. If he was watching me, he could do anything. He could even kidnap Ruslan and me again.

“Um. . . I’d love to, Elena, but I’ve got some work I need to finish today. How about another time?” I said as politely as I could.

Her face fell.

“Aww. All right. Next time, then.”

We said our goodbyes, with Ruslan waving enthusiastically to Justin before we left.

On the taxi ride home, Ruslan talked nineteen to the dozen about school—how he’d won the hundred-metre race and received a trophy, how he’d aced his Science test and everything else that had happened.

I tried to listen. But half of it washed over me because I kept glancing through the rear window, checking whether any car was following us.

Then one thing he said snapped my attention into focus.

I was almost certain I’d heard the word Dad. Something about Ethan coming to see Ruslan today.

“What did you just say?” I asked carefully.

Ruslan immediately looked away.

I cupped his face and gently forced him to meet my eyes. “Ruslan, are you telling me the truth?”

I needed to be sure. Children could invent stories like this simply because they thought it was amusing.

He swallowed. Then, like a guilty little boy, nodded.

All the colours left my face. Because this was exactly what I was afraid of.

What if I was a little more late today or didn’t come at all? That crazy bastard would’ve taken Ruslan!

My throat went dry as I cupped Ruslan’s face. “What did he say? Did he. . . did he try to harm you? To take you?” I asked impatiently.

He shook his head.

“No, Mama. He only said that he misses me. . . and you. That he wants us to be together again. He’s sad that you’re angry with him.” He said sorrowfully, grabbing my hands. “Why are you angry, Mama? Can’t you just forgive Dad so we can all be together?”

My jaw tightened in rage and old sorrow.

Forgive him?

As if he left any scope for that.

When I didn’t say anything, Ruslan slowly reached into his schoolbag and pulled out a remote-controlled car.

“Look. He gave it to me.”

There was excitement in his voice, but he seemed to be holding back his smile as though expecting me to tell him off.

“He said he’d come again and give me more gifts.”

My eyes widened.

He’d come again?

Over my dead body.

“Right,” I said calmly, forcing my voice steady. I glanced at the toy. “That looks nice. Can I see it?”

Ruslan handed it over without hesitation.

I examined every inch. Nothing looked suspicious.

But I didn’t trust Ethan. Someone like him could hide practically anything. A listening device. A miniature camera. Some kind of tracker.

I wasn’t making the same mistake twice.

Without another word, I threw the toy out of the taxi window.

“Mama! Noooo!” Ruslan lunged towards the window.

I caught him and pulled him firmly onto my lap.

“Shh.” I stroked his hair. “Mama will buy you an even nicer one, okay?”

Tears immediately filled his eyes. He wriggled away from me, and this time I let him.

“Why can’t we all be together?” he demanded. “Why do you keep pushing Dad away? What did he do?”

I had no answer I could give him. Not yet.

I simply stared at him, feeling like the worst parent in the world. When I reached for him, he moved away and curled up on the opposite side of the seat, sulking.

It broke my heart.

Ruslan was the one thing keeping me tethered to this world—to this difficult, miserable life. And now even he was slipping away from me.

Tears blurred my vision as I turned towards the window, watching the city rush past in a smear of grey and gold.

How am I supposed to get a divorce if Ruslan keeps choosing his father?

• • •