In the fifth year of my marriage to Curtis, our son Noah went missing during a dinner party.
When a disgruntled former employee found him, he demanded a ransom of two hundred thousand dollars. This was pocket change for Curtis, but his reaction chilled me to the bone.
"Don't rush it," he said. "Prescott men are forged by hardship. It's how they grow strong."
Two hundred thousand dollars was nothing to him, but Noah's safety was my everything. I knelt on the floor, my vision blurred by tears, and desperately begged him to bring our son back immediately.
Curtis, however, remained unmoved.
The boy who returned the next day was not the sunny, vibrant child I knew. He was so deeply traumatized that he began to stutter.
Instead of showing a shred of concern, Curtis coldly remarked, "Noah made Maya cry. Maybe this will teach him not to be so headstrong."
"Don't be afraid, Noah," I whispered in his ear. "Mommy is getting you out of this house."
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1
"Ma'am, the young master is back."
My heart hammered against my ribs as I practically stumbled down the stairs.
In the living room, Noah was curled up in a corner of the sofa, his eyes vacant, like a puppet with its strings cut. He was thinner, his face ghostly pale. His once-sparkling eyes were now hollow and gray.
"Noah!" I rushed over and pulled his small, cold body into my arms, tears spilling down my cheeks.
Noah's body trembled, stiff and unresponsive in my embrace.
I cupped his small, palm-sized face, my heart clenching so tightly I could barely breathe. "Oh, my baby, Mommy's here now. You don't have to be afraid anymore."
But Noah just stared at me blankly, his gaze lost in some distant, impenetrable fog.
Fighting back a fresh wave of tears, I carefully checked his body. Other than the angry red scrapes on his wrists and ankles, there were no other visible injuries. I gently stroked his hair. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. Mommy failed to protect you."
Noah remained silent, as fragile as a glass sculpture on the verge of shattering.
Anxiety gnawed at me. I turned to the butler, Arthur, and ordered, "Quick, get the car. We need to see a doctor, now!"
Just then, Curtis Prescott strode through the door. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored, deep-sea blue suit, the Windsor knot of his tie impeccable, exuding an air of cold arrogance. His face showed not a flicker of concern for his son's return.
He swept a cold glance over us, the corner of his mouth twisting into a sneer. "What's all the drama? He's not bleeding out. Stop acting like the world is ending."
I looked up at Curtis, bone-weary. I couldn't fathom how he could utter such cruel words to his own son.
Despite the rage simmering beneath my skin, I didn't want to argue with him. I just held Noah a little tighter.
Seeing me ignore him, Curtis's brow furrowed, his tone growing sterner. "Look at the state of you," he scoffed. "He had a little scare. Coddle him like this and you'll turn him into a coward."
I took a deep, shaky breath, forcing my anger down. "Curtis, something is seriously wrong with Noah. He hasn't said a single word, and there's no light in his eyes. He's not himself. I'm taking him to a doctor."
Curtis waved a dismissive hand. "You're overreacting. Boys need to be tough. This experience will teach him a lesson, so he'll think twice before causing trouble again."
I stared at him in disbelief as a hot surge of fury rose in my chest. I forced my voice to remain icy. "Are you saying you let this happen? That you delayed helping him just to punish him? He's your son, Curtis!"
"What, are you trying to tell me how to raise my own son?" Curtis sneered. "Noah was out of line. He made Maya cry. This time, he learned his lesson. He knows who he can't afford to cross."
I hugged Noah tighter, a cold numbness spreading through me. So that was it. His refusal to act, his coldness... it was all because of Chloe and her daughter.
I looked at the man I married as if he were a complete stranger.
