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196. A Mother’s Fight
Last Updated:
2025-06-19 22:26:12
MemingerHey, fellow readers. I ended up making a mistake yesterday when loading the chapter, but this is the right chapter. Thank you for your concern and understanding. Have a good reading!!
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Traded For His First Love 199. A Final Farewell
Reese POVThe scent of rain-soaked earth clung to the air, mingling with the sweet perfume of lilies as we stood under a gray London sky. The cemetery stretched before us, a quiet expanse of ancient oaks and weathered stones, where Florence Goodwin, the fierce matriarch who had loved and protected us until her final breath, would be laid to rest. My hand rested in Elliot’s, his fingers cold but steady, a silent tether to the grief we shared. Florence’s sacrifice—her warning about Jennifer’s deadly intent—had saved us, but it cost her life, and the weight of that truth pressed heavy on my heart as we gathered to say goodbye.The mahogany casket gleamed softly, draped in white lilies, their petals stark against the somber crowd. Friends from Chicago and New York had come to honor her, their presence a balm to our loss. Alice Davies, elegant in black, stood beside her husband Connor, their hands clasped tightly. Josh Carter, his face etched with quiet respect, lingered near Ernest and
Traded For His First Love 198. A Bitter End
Elliot POVThe roar of the engine filled my ears, a relentless pulse matching the fear coursing through me as I sped through London’s pre-dawn streets. The hospital’s sterile lights faded in the rearview mirror, Mom’s rasping warning—Jennifer pushed me… she’ll kill Reese—a fire in my chest. My hands gripped the wheel, knuckles white, as I wove through the sparse traffic, the city’s sodium-lit blur a backdrop to my singular focus: Reese, Sammy, and Avie, alone in the Goodwin mansion with a woman driven mad by vengeance. I’d called the police from the hospital lot, my voice clipped as I relayed Mom’s accusation and Jennifer’s threat. They’d promised to swarm the estate, but every second stretched taut, the dread for my family a weight I could barely carry.The city gave way to the winding roads near our home, the mansion’s silhouette a dark promise in the distance. My phone buzzed on the passenger seat, but I ignored it, eyes locked on the road. Then, a flash of headlights—a black car
Traded For His First Love 198. A Line Crossed
Reese POVThe air in the study was heavy with the sharp sting of gunpowder, a bitter reminder of the chaos that had erupted moments ago. My heart thundered, each beat a frantic prayer for my children’s safety, as I stood frozen, my eyes locked on Sammy. My nine-year-old son gripped Jennifer’s gun with trembling hands, his light brown hair damp with sweat, his green eyes—Elliot’s eyes—brimming with tears and defiance. The jagged hole in the wall from his wild shot dusted the air with plaster, and the floor glittered with scattered cash, jewels, and Florence’s antique clock, spilled from the duffel bag I’d swung to knock Jennifer down. Jennifer, now scrambling to her knees, her coat smeared with dust, fixed Sammy with a calculating smile, her voice slithering through the tension like a snake. Avie was still asleep down the hall, thank God, but Sammy’s presence here, caught in this nightmare, tore at my soul. I had to end this, protect him, no matter the cost.“Sammy, sweetheart,” I s
Traded For His First Love 196. A Mother’s Fight
Reese POVThe Goodwin mansion’s study was a battlefield of shadows, the London night pressing against the heavy curtains, the air thick with tension and the metallic tang of fear. Jennifer stood over me, her gun trained on my head, its cold barrel a constant threat as I knelt by Elliot’s open safe, stuffing cash and jewels into duffel bags. Her manic smile gleamed in the dim light of the desk lamp, her eyes wild with a mix of triumph and rage. Sammy and Avie were asleep down the hall, their innocence a fragile shield against this nightmare, and my heart pounded with the desperate need to keep them safe. The phone on Elliot’s desk had been ringing, its shrill tone cutting through the silence, and Jennifer’s glare sharpened, her voice a venomous hiss. “Don’t even think about answering it, Reese. One move, and you’re dead.”I froze, my hands trembling over a stack of pounds, but my mind raced. That call—likely Elliot, still at the hospital with Florence—was my lifeline. If I could answe
Traded For His First Love 195. A Gun to the Heart
Reese POVThe Goodwin mansion was a cavern of shadows in the dead of night, its grand halls silent except for the faint creak of old wood settling. I jolted awake in the master bedroom, my heart hammering before my eyes could make sense of the darkness. A cold, hard pressure pressed against my temple, and my breath caught as the glint of a gun materialized in the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains. Jennifer stood over me, her face twisted into a menacing sneer, her eyes glittering with a dangerous mix of triumph and rage. The barrel of the pistol was steady, her grip unwavering, and fear surged through me, sharp and paralyzing. My mind raced to Sammy and Avie, asleep in their rooms down the hall, oblivious to the nightmare unfolding.“Shh,” Jennifer hissed, her voice a venomous whisper, leaning closer, her perfume cloying in the still air. “One sound, Reese, and I’ll blow your brains out. Don’t test me.”I froze, my hands gripping the sheets, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Traded For His First Love 194. A Mother’s Warning
Elliot POVThe ICU at St. Mary’s Hospital was a sterile cage of white walls and incessant beeping, a place where hope hung by the thread of a monitor’s pulse. I slumped in a plastic chair beside my mother’s bed, my hands clasped tightly, staring at her frail, bruised face. Florence Goodwin, the unyielding matriarch of our family, looked like a ghost of herself, her silver hair tangled, tubes snaking from her arms, a ventilator’s hiss marking each breath. The doctor’s words—coma, severe head injury, critical—looped in my mind, each one a weight on my chest. A fall down the stairs, they said, discovered by the mansion staff the next morning. But the explanation felt hollow, the pieces misaligned. Mom was careful, the mansion her domain. My gut churned with worry, a son’s fear for his mother tangled with guilt for our past—her role in poisoning my first marriage to Reese, her slow atonement since. I rubbed my eyes, exhaustion clawing at me, but leaving her side wasn’t an option.The cl
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