Chapter 3

"Claire! Are you even listening to me?" Eric shouted.

His scream yanked me back to the present.

I looked up and saw him staring at me, furious.

He waved his arms, practically shouting. "Andrew is super successful now. He still thinks about you. If you don't go apologize right now, you'll lose your chance to get back together."

His voice was full of blame. "Don't you deem yourself as smart? How can you not do this simple math?"

He looked at me like I was making the worst mistake of my life, and honestly, I felt empty.

I took a breath and spoke one last time, loud and clear.

"I, Claire Evans, am married. My husband loves me. My son is great. I'm fine. I don't owe anyone anything. I don't need anyone's forgiveness. Stop bothering me."

I grabbed my son's hand and walked quickly toward a taxi at the curb.

Eric tried to follow, but the cab pulled away in a cloud of exhaust.

He didn't hesitate. He pulled out his phone and texted Andrew.

[Andrew, I saw Claire just now. She's back.]

On the other end of the screen, Andrew froze for a second, then jumped up and ran for the door.

He almost ran straight into a glass wall.

*****

I got to my hotel, dropped off my bags, and took my son down to the restaurant for dinner.

The second the elevator doors opened, someone in the lobby yelled, "Andrew! There she is. Claire's here."

I looked up automatically.

A handsome man was standing in the middle of the lobby with Eric.

I recognized him immediately. Andrew. My ex-boyfriend. The one who'd walked his first love down the aisle at our wedding.

He stood there, his eyes locked on the little boy next to me.

His Adam's apple bobbed. His voice shook. "Claire. Is he my son?"

I froze.

Andrew stared at me, desperate and demanding.

He lowered his voice and asked, "Claire. Tell me the truth. Is he mine?"

I stepped back instinctively, turning sideways to block my son with my body.

I looked Andrew right in the eye. "No. He's my husband's son. He has his father's last name. Reed."

I didn't know what part of that set him off, but Andrew's eyes went red.

He clenched his jaw. Veins popped out on his forehead. He yelled, "Claire! If you're going to lie, at least make it believable.

"You left me seven years ago. He's exactly seven years old. Don't tell me you ran away from our wedding and immediately had a baby with some random man!"

I felt a flash of anger. Random man?

I broke up with Andrew, then met Daniel, fell in love, got married, and had a baby. That wasn't a "random man."

I was about to snap back at him when someone shoved me hard from behind.

My hands hit the cold tile floor and slid. The pain shot through me.

"What are you doing?" I yelled.

Andrew froze, his face shocked and worried. He reached down to help me up.

But I flinched and pulled away. He froze again.

Then a woman appeared.

She grabbed my son's arm. Her voice was sharp and ugly. "What am I doing? Taking my own grandson home!"

Then she said to Andrew, "I've seen women like her before. Gold diggers who only want money.

"She won't go back with you because she's playing games. Trying to make you chase her.

"She took my money, and then she stole my grandson. I should call the police!"

She turned to a bodyguard and waved her hand. "What are you waiting for? Take my grandson."

The bodyguard ran at my son and grabbed him.

I saw red. I pushed myself off the floor and dove toward them.

But Andrew grabbed me from behind and held me tight.

I was frantic, desperate, my voice raw. "Give me back my son! I said he's not Andrew's child."

My son started screaming. The sound was horrible. "I won't go with you. I want my Mommy and Daddy. Mommy, help!"

Andrew squeezed my arms so I couldn't fight. He tried to use a soft voice on my son. "Don't cry, son. Your mother is confused. She's been teaching you wrong. Daddy is taking you home."

My son fought harder. His shoe fell off.

He stood on the cold floor in one bare foot, twisting and yelling. "You're not my Daddy. My Daddy's name is Daniel Reed. He's coming, and he won't let you get away with this!"

Andrew's face went dark, like a storm cloud.

He looked at the bodyguard, his voice cold as ice. "This kid is threatening adults. Who knows what trouble he'll cause when he grows up? Roy. Don't be gentle. Teach him a lesson."

Andrew's mother nodded eagerly. "Exactly. He clearly hasn't been taught any manners. He needs discipline. Thank goodness Eric noticed something was wrong. Who knows when I would have gotten my grandson back?"

She turned to the bodyguard and gave the order directly. "Tie his hands. Gag him. Take him home and lock him in a dark room. He can come out when he learns to behave."

A man's voice, low and angry, cut through the lobby.

"Try it. Touch my son. See what happens."