Chapter 2

“Mom, Nick’s milk is finished.”

That shrill little voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Nicholas my six year old son, whined as he tugged at the hem of my work shirt. I looked down at him, sharp obsidian eyes, a firm jawline beginning to form, and a cold aura that sometimes surfaced despite his young age.

He was a perfect replica of the man the “bartender” who had spent one reckless night with me six years ago.

A man whose identity remains a mystery to this day.

“Yes, sweetheart. Mommy will make it once we arrive at Grandpa’s house,” I replied, gently stroking his jet-black hair.

“Promise, Mom?”

“I promise.”

I kissed his chubby cheek. Nicholas is my only reason to keep living. I carefully invested the one million dollars I had six years ago to build my boutique, choosing to live frugally in a modest apartment for Nick’s future.

“Mom, when will we get to Grandpa’s house?”

“Very soon, Nick.”

I would never allow anyone including his father, should he ever appear to take Nick away from me.

The taxi stopped in front of the Hayes family residence. The once grand house now looked dull and poorly maintained, a sharp contrast to the luxurious boutique I had built on my own.

“Mom, is this Grandpa’s house?” Nick’s eyes sparkled.

All this time, I had lied, telling him his grandparents lived very far away because I wasn’t ready to face Mother’s hatred again.

“Let’s go inside,” I whispered, tightly holding his small hand.

As soon as we entered, Auntie the last remaining housekeeper greeted me with a pale face.

“Miss Meggie… Master is in his room. He’s having another episode.”

I flinched. I immediately picked Nick up and ran upstairs. In the room at the very end of the hall, I found the man who once commanded great authority now lying weak and helpless.

Father had suffered a stroke two years ago. Half of his body was paralyzed, and all he could do was stare blankly at the ceiling.

“Meggie… you came, my child?” His voice was hoarse and trembling.

I stepped closer and set Nick down.

“This is Nick, Dad. Your grandson.”

Father smiled faintly, his trembling fingers brushing Nick’s cheek.

“So handsome… he looks very much like someone.”

“Just an illegitimate child with no clear origin,” a cold voice cut in from the doorway.

Mother—Emma—stood there, her gaze as sharp as it had been six years ago. To her, I was not only her husband’s affair child, but now also a disgrace for giving birth without a husband.

“Emma, don’t speak like that in front of Nick,” Father warned weakly.

“Then what should I say? That’s the truth!” Mother snapped, stepping forward.

“We’re falling into poverty, Thom! All our savings are gone for your treatment, and now our family’s debt at the bank has reached 170 million dollars! We’re going to be thrown out of this house!”

My eyes widened.

“One hundred and seventy million dollars? Where did such a massive debt come from?”

“Failed businesses and the useless medical expenses for your father!” Mother shouted.

Then she looked at me with a cunning glint in her eyes.

“You’re the only solution, Meggie. Sell your boutique. Sell your apartment. And offer yourself as collateral to loan sharks!”

“No!” I hugged Nick tightly.

“I have a child to raise. I won’t drag Nick into the streets!”

“Then leave!” Father suddenly shouted, his eyes glistening as if silently urging me to run away.

I didn’t hesitate. I carried Nick out of that cursed house, unaware that dark shadows had begun stalking us the moment we stepped inside.

***

Three days later at the boutique

My phone vibrated. An unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Am I speaking to Mrs. Margaretha Hayes?”

The voice on the other end was deep, cold, and carried a tone that made my skin crawl.

“Yes, this is she. Who is this?”

A low, terrifying chuckle followed.

“Don’t be so tense, Mrs. Hayes. We just wanted to inform you that your son, Nicholas, was very cooperative when we picked him up from school earlier today.”

My world seemed to stop.

“What? What do you mean?!”

“Mrs. Emma Hayes has handed Nicholas over as living collateral for the 170 million dollar debt owed to our organization. If you want the child returned in one piece, prepare the money within 24 hours. Or…”

“Or what?!” I screamed hysterically.

“Or your son will be auctioned off on the black market. Don’t even think about contacting the police, unless you want to see his head delivered to you in a gift box.”

Click.

The line went dead.

My knees went weak.

Mother really did it. She sold her own grandson to the mafia to pay off her debt.

With trembling hands, I tried calling Mother, but she didn’t answer.

“Mother… I will never forgive you if anything happens to Nick.”

I had to find Nicholas.

Even if it meant giving up my life.

I returned to the Hayes residence, fury and terror intertwined in my chest.

“Emma! Come out!” I screamed, pounding on the door like a madwoman.

Mother appeared, her face cold, utterly devoid of guilt.

“You heartless demon!” I cried.

“You sold my child!”

She scoffed dismissively.

“That child finally became useful. At least he can pay for this family’s survival.”

Before I could lunge at her, Father—Thom—came out of his room in his wheelchair. He had apparently heard everything.

“W-What… what did you just say?” His face turned deathly pale.

“They kidnapped my grandson?”

His body shook violently.

The blood pressure monitor let out a piercing alarm, the numbers shot up to 200.

“FATHER!” I screamed in panic.

He collapsed instantly.

Father was rushed to the hospital unconscious. Doctors and nurses ran back and forth, alarms blaring nonstop.

A stroke again.

I stood in the hospital corridor, my hands still stained with blood, my heart torn apart by guilt and hatred.

Then my phone rang again.

I answered with trembling fingers.

A video was sent.

My hands shook as I pressed play.

Nicholas.

My Nick.

He was tied to a chair, his small body trembling. His head was covered with a black cloth.

I recognized everything.

The school uniform, the one I sewed with my own hands.

The watch on his wrist, the gift I gave him on his fourth birthday, eight months ago.

My world collapsed.

“I’ll do anything,” I whispered into the phone, my voice shattered.

“Please, don’t hurt my child.”