Chapter 2

Chase's expression froze. "Two daddies? What do you mean, two daddies?"

My son tightened his arms around my neck and explained earnestly, "I already have a daddy. That's who we came here to find."

The blood drained from Chase's face. He stood frozen, pupils trembling, too stunned to speak. "You... already have a daddy?"

My son nodded firmly.

Then, as if something had clicked, Chase spun back to me, his eyes full of accusation. "Is this how you've been raising him? Even the kid knows he came here to find me, and I'm standing right here, and you still won't let him call me Dad?"

We had come to find the boy's father, but that didn't mean the father was Chase. Even when I was carrying Chase's child, I'd never seen him show this much concern. And now, standing in front of him was a son that belonged to another man—I had no idea where this obsession of his was coming from.

I frowned and raised my voice. "Chase, listen carefully. I got married a long time ago. This isn't your son."

"Still playing tough." A flicker of anger crossed Chase's face. "What could you possibly gain from keeping a boy from his own father?"

Just then, a voice I recognized cut in.

"You're still picking fights with Chase, huh? Two daddies—don't go warping the poor kid's head."

The tone was teasing, but mockery ran underneath it.

I looked toward the doorway. Monica.

She strolled over, laughing easily, and clapped Chase on the shoulder. "A weak woman like her can't raise a kid properly. Now that you're back, you can teach him right."

Chase looked at my son and nodded. "That's right. I'll teach him the right values, and I'll take him out to chase freedom with me—let him really experience nature."

I nearly laughed out loud inside. They had no idea.

My son had lived a life of comfort and the best education there was since the day he was born. He loved the cello, so my husband had commissioned him a custom handmade instrument and hired one of the most respected professors from the conservatory to teach him. Once he was a little older, we'd take him traveling around the world—cultivating his character through music, exploring every corner of the globe.

My husband was nothing like Chase, who'd thrown everything away to go live like some drifter in the wild.

"Mommy, he's going to teach me? Does he even play cello?" My son tugged at my sleeve, thoroughly confused.

Chase's expression shifted, as if he'd just heard something outrageous. "Cello? Performances, too?" His voice was thick with disbelief. "Where would you even get the money for that?"

I looked him dead in the eye, the corner of my mouth curling. "My husband happens to be very rich."

Chase's lips moved a few times before any words came out, his expression a mess. "You... you actually married someone else?"

He stared at me, a flicker of panic in his eyes.

"Don't fall for it—ha!" Monica burst out laughing. "She's just trying to get under your skin. She wants you to think she and the kid are doing just fine without you."

At that, the tension in Chase's face eased. "You can't joke about things like that anymore. I don't have time for these games with you. And don't think that just because I still care, you get to control me—I'm doing great on my own, and I don't need you managing my life. Same goes for the kid. Just let him play and be a kid, let him be free."

I hadn't even gotten a word of protest out before my son poked me. "Right, Mommy, when are we going out to play? We're running out of time."

At the same moment, someone shouted Chase's name from the direction of the kitchen.

"Go play then, son. Do whatever you want—freedom's what matters most!"

Chase tossed that out and hurried off toward the kitchen.

Monica arched an eyebrow, the contempt in her eyes no longer hidden. "Can't survive without a man around, can you? Three months left on your three years, and you already can't hold out?"