Chapter 4

The Kingston estate at night was a different beast than it was during the day. When the sun was up, the gold leaf and polished marble screamed of old money and power.

But at night, the house was quiet, and there was no sign of life hidden anywhere in the long, echoing corridors. The silence was heavy, the kind of silence that made you hear your own heartbeat. I felt like an intruder in a museum, a ghost haunting the halls of a life I had walked away from five years ago.

I sat on the edge of the plush bed in the Blue Suite, clutching my phone. I had already sent a text to Sarah, the nanny I’d hired for the trip.

Thankfully, the person I left Fin with was more than understanding. After shooting her a text and explaining the "emergency" that had trapped me at the estate, she had been incredibly graceful. She was a bit more understanding of my plight than most would be, even minus the fact that Fin's father was the very man currently forcing me to be here.

I couldn't stay in the room. The walls felt like they were closing in on me, covered in expensive silk wallpaper that felt like a shroud. I needed to hear my son's voice. I crept out of my room, my bare feet silent on the thick carpet, heading toward what looked like a small, private garden balcony I had spotted earlier. I couldn't take the chance of making such a phone call in my room; the doors were thick, but in a house owned by Eric Kingston, you never knew who was listening. I didn't want anyone catching wind of this—especially not him.

The night air was chilling as I stepped onto the balcony. I saw a message from Sarah. Fin hadn't been able to sleep. He had been crying, asking for me, his little heart confused by my sudden absence. The guilt pierced through me like a physical blade. I dialed her number immediately. The phone rang three times, each tone feeling like an eternity, before it was finally picked up.

“Hi, ma'am,” Sarah’s voice rang through, tired but patient. In the background, I could hear the distinct, heartbreaking sound of Fin's muffled crying. It was a jagged, gasping sound that made my chest ache.

“Sarah, please, put him on. Let me talk to him,” I pleaded, my voice barely a whisper.

I heard the rustle of the phone being moved, Sarah cooing to him, telling him to speak to his mommy.

“Hi there, my baby,” I said, cooing into the receiver. The effect was instantaneous. The loud wailing stopped, replaced by soft, hitching sniffles. This had been the longest we had been apart since the day he was born, and the distance felt like an ocean between us.

“Mommy?” he whispered, his voice small and fragile.

I spent the next twenty minutes talking to him, my eyes blurring with tears I refused to let fall. I reassured him over and over that I loved him, trying to make him understand that I would be back soon—that I was just finishing some work for my friend's wedding. He was an extremely obedient child, always trying to be the "big man" I told him he was, but I could hear the note of disappointment in his tone. It broke my heart.

“Okay, I will let you go now. It seems my baby is feeling sleepy,” I said, noticing his yawns getting heavier through the line. “I love you, my cutie pie. Sleep tight.”

I ended the call as soon as I was sure he was settling down. I stared out at the dark expanse of the Kingston grounds, the manicured hedges looking like monsters in the moonlight. Soon, my baby. Soon, I promised silently.

“Cutie pie? And who exactly is your cutie pie?”

The voice came from directly behind me, deep and smooth like expensive bourbon. I felt nothing but cold sweat pooling at the nape of my neck. My heart stopped, then restarted at a frantic, double-time pace. I turned around, and there he was. Eric.

He was leaning against the stone archway, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, looking far too comfortable in the shadows. Curse my luck. Of all the people to be wandering the halls at midnight, it had to be the one man who could dismantle my entire life with a single phone call.

“Oh... he’s my nephew,” I stammered, the lie feeling clumsier every time I used it. “We haven't spoken in a while, and I just wanted to check-in.”

I didn't wait for him to respond. I didn't want to see the skepticism I knew was etched into his features. With that silly excuse, I bolted. I ran past him, my heart hammering against my ribs, retreating to the safety of the Blue Suite like my life depended on it. In a way, it did. Even as I slammed my door and locked it, I could still feel Eric's glare lingering at the back of my head, a silent promise that he wasn't buying a single word.