Chapter 7

James' accusation pierced through the door and hit me like a slap. My heart sank, cold spreading through my chest.

Ruin him? In his eyes, taking my son to the store and reclaiming what was rightfully mine meant I wanted to ruin him? The absurdity of it twisted something inside me.

I pulled the door open.

James' fist froze mid-air. He stared at me, clearly stunned that I'd actually opened the door. His eyes were bloodshot and raw, and dark stubble shadowed his jaw. He looked wrecked, like he hadn't slept in days.

I stepped aside. "Come in."

Some things needed to be said face-to-face.

James stepped into the house, and his eyes went straight to Ethan playing with blocks in the living room.

Ethan heard him and looked up.

The two of them stared at each other, one tall, the other small, their faces nearly identical.

Ethan wasn't shy. He studied James with open curiosity and asked, "Are you looking for my mom, sir?"

James swallowed hard, his voice rough when he answered. "Yeah."

James crouched down and reached out to touch Ethan's head. His hand stopped in mid-air, and he froze because he did not dare to follow through with the gesture.

He turned toward me, and his eyes were filled with endless regret and pain.

"Did my mom tell you everything?" he asked in a low voice.

I leaned against the wall and met his gaze coldly. "Tell me what?" I asked. "That you're marrying Sophie? Or that the love token you gave her was actually the one I gave you?"

James' face went pale in an instant. He shot to his feet and moved toward me.

"It's not like that," he said urgently, desperate to explain. "Sophie and I aren't what you think. That necklace—"

"Enough." I cut him off. "James, I don't want to hear any of your explanations.

"I let you in today to tell you one thing," I continued. "You're not getting custody of Ethan. And I expect you to send me the 60 thousand dollars in child support as soon as possible. After that, we're even."

My words destroyed whatever hope he had left. He stumbled backward and braced himself against the wall.

"Even?" James repeated the word under his breath, and his voice sounded bitter, like the word itself hurt to say.

He lifted his head and locked his bloodshot eyes on mine.

"Emily, do you have to be this cold?" he asked, his voice breaking. "In four years, didn't you think about me even once?"

Think about him? Of course I did.

I thought about him during countless sleepless nights, when morning sickness left me curled up on the bathroom floor, wishing I could die.

I thought about him when I went to prenatal appointments alone. I thought about him when Ethan ran a fever, and I paced the hospital corridor with no one to call, no one to help me carry the weight of my terror.

I thought about why he could be so heartless, and I wondered where he had gone. I thought about how we had fallen apart so completely.

But none of that mattered anymore.

"I did think about you," I said, keeping my voice steady as I looked at him. "I thought you were probably dead somewhere, so every year on your birthday I visited the church and prayed for you."

James' body shook violently. He stared at me like I was something monstrous.

"How did you become so cold?" he whispered.

"You made me this way," I said, and I felt my lips twist into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You taught me exactly how heartless a person can be."

The living room turned ice-cold.

Ethan must have sensed something was wrong. He set down his blocks and toddled over to me on his little legs, wrapping his arms around my leg.

"Mommy, don't cry," he said, tilting his small face up with worry written all over it.

That was when I realized tears were already streaming down my face.

I crouched down and pulled Ethan close, burying my face against his small shoulder.

James watched us hold each other, and the pain in his eyes looked ready to spill over. He seemed like he wanted to come closer, but something kept him frozen in place.

"I didn't abandon you," he said, his voice thick and nasal. "I had my reasons for leaving. Something happened with my family."

Another excuse. I didn't want to hear it.

"Your reasons?" I shot back. "You mean letting your mother throw me out? You mean moving in with your little college girlfriend?

"James, save it," I said flatly. "I'm sick of hearing this."

I stood up, wiped my tears, and pointed toward the door. "Now, please leave my house."

"I'm not leaving," James said, his emotions flaring. "I'm not going anywhere until we settle this."

He kept going. "Emily, I'll admit my mother was wrong back then, but that wasn't what I wanted. And Sophie? We're not what you think. We—"

The doorbell rang, cutting off James mid-sentence.

I frowned and walked to the door.

Sophie stood on the other side. She had changed her clothes, and her eyes were red and puffy from crying.

When she spotted James inside, Sophie rushed in like she'd found her lifeline and latched onto his arm.

"James, I knew you're here," she said breathlessly. "I was so worried. You weren't answering your phone."

She shot me a triumphant look, as if marking her territory, and then her gaze landed on Ethan. Jealousy flashed across her face.

James tried to pull away, but she only gripped him tighter.

"Let's go, James," Sophie urged. "We shouldn't stay here. Helen's waiting at home to discuss the engagement details with us."

Engagement? Details?

Those two words hit me like a slap across the face. They hit James just as hard.