Chapter 4
My mind went completely blank. My body froze, cold and stiff, and I had no idea what to do. Meanwhile, Easton, mostly hidden behind Adrian Jackson's tall frame, seemed to feel the weight of the stranger's unsettling gaze.
The little guy peered out timidly from behind Adrian, inching forward.
His large, beautiful eyes—half mine, now clearer with Adrian's features—were wide with a child's innocent confusion and mixed with a touch of frightened surprise. With all the courage he could gather, he looked up at the stranger—a man who seemed almost godlike yet frightening in every way.
Their eyes met. The silence hung thick in the air, as if time itself had stopped.
Adrian's tall frame wavered when he finally saw Easton's face, like he'd been struck by an invisible, unstoppable force.
All colors drained from his face. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His eyes, once cool and controlled in front of cameras, now revealed an intense storm of emotions.
The shock was so overwhelming that it felt like disbelief itself had knocked him senseless.
He stared at Easton, his gaze sharp and piercing, as though trying to see through the boy, searching for every piece of him.
"You..." Adrian finally managed to croak, his voice quivering with raw, unnameable emotion, like something deep within him had been shattered.
The reporters immediately sensed the tension, and Adrian's reaction sent them into a frenzy. Cameras flashed relentlessly as they fired off questions.
"Mr. Jackson, who exactly is this boy?"
"Do you know him?"
"He looks just like you! Could he be your—"
"Shut up!" Adrian snarled, his voice low and filled with barely-contained anger.
He shot up from his seat, his towering presence casting a shadow over the room. Adrian's eyes—cold and fierce—swept over the reporters, his hostility clear for everyone to see.
The reporters were instantly silenced by his outburst and chilling stare. Even the rapid clicks of cameras halted for a heartbeat.
Adrian took a deep breath, clearly struggling to hold back the chaos inside him. Without even looking at anyone else, he bent down abruptly, and to everyone's shock, he grabbed the dazed Easton in a single, almost forceful movement.
His actions were overpowering, almost harsh, leaving no room for resistance.
Easton squeaked, his small hands gripping Adrian's expensive suit jacket instinctively.
Adrian, clutching Easton against his chest, spun around and headed straight for his black van with sharp lines parked by the curb. His manager, Lily Woodard, and several burly security guards sprang forward immediately, trying to fend off the crowd of reporters that surged back in.
"Adrian, put my son down!" I screamed, my voice so sharp and desperate that it felt like my throat was being torn apart with every word.
My shout cut through the chaos like a lightning bolt.
Suddenly, every camera turned toward me.
Adrian froze in his tracks, still holding Easton. He spun around so fast that it felt as though time itself had stopped.
Through the flashing lights and sea of people, his gaze locked onto mine. It pierced through the crowd like a cold, merciless arrow.
His eyes—once the ones that pulled me in and later shattered me—now burned with a storm of emotions: shock, anger, disbelief, and beneath it all, an unforgiving chill of betrayal.
Five years of history seemed to collapse into this one, charged moment.
He still had that blinding presence like the sun, while I was the shadow, helplessly pulled under by the weight of his gaze.
His eyes scanned my face—cold, sharp, dissecting every inch—as if he was searching for proof of something, wrestling with the chaos inside him.
Then I clearly saw the final flicker of shock in his eyes, which was sparked by Easton, being replaced by something colder and harsher. What remained was a frozen fury that went deeper than anything I had ever seen.
That look hurt more, colder than the day he handed me the divorce papers five years ago.
Adrian's lips pressed into a thin, razor-sharp line. His jaw was so clenched that it looked ready to snap. He tightened his grip on Easton, making it clear that he wasn't going to let go.
"Mommy!" Easton wailed, his face filled with fear and desperation as he squirmed in Adrian's arms, reaching for me. His voice cracked with the effort to hold back his sobs.
The moment the word "Mommy" left his lips, it was as if a bomb had just exploded.
"Oh, my God. Did that kid just call her Mommy?"
"Who even is she?"
"No way. Adrian is actually holding her kid?"
"What's their relationship?"
The reporters went wild, their voices echoing with questions as cameras flashed continuously, turning the scene into a frenzied media circus.
Lily's face twisted with panic. She barked orders to the security team, trying to block the reporters from getting too close. "Adrian, have you lost your mind? Put the kid down. Get in the car now!" she shouted desperately.
But Adrian didn't even flinch. It was like her words didn't even reach him.
He held Easton, who was now kicking and crying in his arms, blocking out the madness surrounding him. His gaze never left mine. Slowly, deliberately, he began to move through the crowd, coming straight for me.
Every step he took felt like a dagger to my heart, sharp and merciless.
With every inch he closed the distance, the pressure of his presence grew heavier, suffocating.
He finally came to a halt right in front of me.
His large shadow stretched over me, engulfing me completely.
The scent of his cologne, sharp and unfamiliar, mixed with Easton's soft, milky scent. But instead of warmth, it hit me like a wave of dizziness and cold.
He lowered his head and looked at me.
Those eyes—once filled with galaxies—now felt like ice. They were cold, unforgiving, fixed on mine. His voice was low and threatening, thick with a storm that was on the verge of breaking. "Sophie Hale."
"Well played," he hissed, each word punched out through gritted teeth.
Every syllable hit me like shards of ice, each one like a slap to the face.
"Mommy. I want my mommy!" Easton cried, his voice breaking through the chaos. He thrashed in Adrian's grip, his little hands reaching out for me and his body trembling with fear.
Every sob felt like a knife twisting in my heart.
"Easton, don't be scared. I am here!" I shouted, not caring about Adrian's murderous glare or the flashing cameras and gasps around us. I lunged forward, desperate to snatch Easton back into my arms.
"Let go!" Adrian growled, his arm tight around Easton, unyielding. His voice was as cold as ice.
"Adrian, let go of my son! What right do you have to touch him?" I screamed, my eyes blazing with fury. Desperately, I tried to pry his arm off, my nails scraping across his expensive suit.