Chapter 01

Freya POV

“Mommy, why does Daddy never smile at you?”

Finn’s small finger brushed my cheek, trying to wipe away the tears I thought I’d hidden. His eyes were wide, too old for his five years, and yet too innocent to carry the weight of a question like that.

I forced a smile. “It’s not like that, baby. Daddy always smiles at Mommy. You just haven't caught it.“

He tilted his head, unconvinced. “Will Daddy come to my school tomorrow? For the parent meeting? All my friends’ daddies always come.”

I swalloed the truth like glass. “Don't worry, Finn. Your daddy will be there.”

He grinned, the kind of grin that makes lies worth telling. “Okay! I’ll go remind him!”

Before I could stop him, Finn darted down the hall. My stomach knotted. Malum hated interruptions. Seconds later, Finn returned, his small shoulders slumped. “Daddy’s not there. His door is locked.”

I frowned. I knew I’d served Malum dinner last night, watched him retreat to his room, and he never left without demanding his home-cooked breakfast.

Curiosity outweighed caution. I walked to the door, turned the lock—and froze.

The room stank of perfume and sweat. On our bed, Malum’s naked body moved in rhythm with Cassandra, his secretary. He was humping her, pushing his dick in and out of her cunt fast and hard. His moans filled the air like a grotesque anthem.

It wasn't the first time.

My chest tightened, not with surprise but with dread—because I felt Finn’s footsteps behind me.

I spun, scooping him up before he could see, pressing his face into my shoulder, and covering his ears. “What is it, my baby? Tell me. Mama will make you something.” My voice shook, but I carried him toward the kitchen, away from the noises that poisoned our home.

He brightened when I pulled out a plan. “Pancakes?”

“Yes. Pancakes.”

As the butter hissed in the skillet, my phone rang. Lisa. Malum’s sister.

“Freya,” she said breathlessly, “Mother is in the hospital. She’s asking for you. Come quickly.”

Duty overpowered despair. I hurried to change Finn’s clothes, then mine. At Malum’s door, I knocked, intending to tell him.

His voice thundered back. “Do not disturb me!”

“I was only—”

“I don't care what you do!”

I bit back the sting. That was my marriage in a single exchange: ten years of silence and scorn.

Ten years ago, Malum had plucked me from an orphanage—not out of love, but necessity. His inheritance required a wife. My godmother, Odessa, had arranged it. I hadn’t understood the price of her gift until it was too late.

Now, I hailed a taxi. I didn’t own a car. Malum never allowed it. At the hospital, I gave Mrs Sutton’s name at the registry and was told to wait. The antiseptic air pressed on me as I settled into a chair, Finn curled beside me.

Finn leaned his head against my shoulder as we waited, his little legs swinging restlessly above the floor. He whispered, “Mommy, are you scared?”

The question caught me off guard. “Why would you think that, sweetheart?”

“Because your hands are shaking.”

I looked down—he was right. My fingers trembled where they held his small palm. I curled them tighter, trying to still the quake. “Sometimes grown-ups shake when they’re waiting for something important. But it doesn’t mean I’m scared. It just means… I care a lot.”

Finn thought about this for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled paper star he’d cut out at school. The edges were uneven, the folds clumsy, but he placed it solemnly in my hand. “You can hold this instead of shaking.”

The gesture was so earnest, so unguarded, it cracked something inside me. I kissed his hair, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Thank you, my brave boy. I’ll keep it safe.”

I slipped the little star into my purse just as footsteps and hushed whispers stirred the waiting room. Nurses straightened, voices hushed. Heads turned toward the entrance, the air shifting. That was when the three men entered, and everything changed.

Three men strode in, tall, commanding, their presence so sharp the air seemed to shift around them. They shared the same strong jaw, piercing eyes, yet each bore a different edge—one with the cold precision of a lawyer, another with the steadiness of a healer, and the third with a charisma that drew every gaze in the room.

Finn leapt up before I could stop him. He rushed to the youngest, tugging at his wrist. “I know you!”

The man crouched, his smile effortless, warm. “You know me?”

Finn nodded eagerly. “Mummy, it's Kai. Look—it’s Kai!”

I froze. My son had never met him.

Kai’s smile lingered as if he, too, felt a strange recognition. He ruffled Finn’s hair and pulled a candy from his bag. Finn glanced at me for approval. I nodded.

“What’s your name, little man?” Kai asked.

“Finn!”

“Smart boy,” Kai said softly, almost reverently. “I hope I see you again.”

His brothers called from down the hall. “Mother is awake. She wants to speak with us.”

Kai gently patted Finn’s shoulder, then turned and walked with them.

The waiting room felt emptier once the three men vanished down the corridor. I pulled Finn onto my lap, pressing my cheek to his soft hair, trying to steady the tremor in my chest.

A nurse emerged from one of the side rooms, carrying a clipboard. She paused when her eyes fell on Finn. For a moment her face flickered—surprise, maybe even recognition.

“He looked just like…” she murmured, then clamped her lips shut.

My pulse jumped. “Just like who?” I asked.

The nurse blinked, as if realizing she’d said too much. She forced a polite smile. “No one. Sorry, ma’am. Just reminded me of someone. That’s all.” She walked briskly away, her shoes clinking against the polished tiles.

Finn, oblivious, was busy twisting the candy wrapper into shapes. But unease coiled in my stomach.

Then, from the far end of the hall, a man in a slate-grey suit strode past, phone pressed to his ear. His voice carried low but clipped.

“Yes. All three sons are here. No, not yet. But if the matriarch talks…” He hesitated, glancing around before lowering his tone.”… everything changes.”

I stiffened. His eyes swept the waiting area briefly before he disappeared down another corridor.

I hugged Finn tighter, though he didn’t notice. Something was unraveling here—threads I didn't understand but could already feel tightening around us.

The waiting room buzzed louder now. I caught snippets of awe: “Isn't that Kai Harrison? The superstar?”

“Harrison?” I whispered, unfamiliar.

Curiosity pricked. I pulled out my phone, searched—and froze.

Kai Harrioson: global superstar. Son of the matriarch of one of Dubai's wealthiest families. His brother: Rowan Harrison, a formidable lawyer. Sage Harrison, a celebrated surgeon. Their family not only commanded Dubai’s fortune but also owned vast estates in the United States.

I lowered the phone, my pulse unsteady.

Why did my son recognize him?

And why did Kai look at Finn like he knew him too?