Chapter 2
The kid went flying off Lily's back, knocked over a glass on the coffee table, rolled across the floor, and slammed his butt against the sofa leg.
"Waaaaah!"
He let out a scream that shook the whole room.
Lily whipped her head around, her eyes wide as saucers, staring at me in shock.
Her mouth hung open, but she couldn't get a word out.
"Lily! Are you okay?" I crouched down, trying to help her up.
"W-Who are you?"
Lily shrunk back a step from me.
She didn't recognize me.
That hit me harder than kicking that kid ever could.
But I had no time to mope.
I heard someone rushing out from the kitchen.
"What happened? What's going on?"
A woman burst out of the kitchen.
It was Sarah, my wife.
After eight years, she looked slimmer, her hair was now short, and she had an apron on, clutching a spatula.
The moment she saw me, she froze.
She dropped the spatula, and it hit the floor with a loud clang.
"E-Edward?" she stammered.
I opened my mouth, about to call her name.
But her gaze didn't linger on me.
Her eyes went right past me, landing on the little boy by the sofa, who was bawling his eyes out.
And then...
She rushed over in a panic, like a madwoman.
Not toward me, toward that boy.
She went straight for him.
She scooped him up, patting his head and back, muttering anxiously as she fussed over him.
"Max! Max, where does it hurt? Let Mommy check."
Mommy?
My head was spinning.
Sarah turned to me, her eyes bloodshot, her voice so sharp it could shatter glass.
"Edward, are you crazy? Why did you kick him?
"He's your son!"
Just three simple words.
They slammed into my head like five nails hammered into my brain.
I stood there in the middle of the living room, my hand still frozen in the air, like I was trying to reach for Lily.
It felt like my whole world just froze.
He was my son.
My...
Son?
I don't have a son.
I've only got one kid, my daughter, Lily Carter. She's ten now.
When I got locked up, she was just two years old, still running around in diapers.
I don't have a son.
So who the hell is this little brat?
When did Sarah...
My brain started racing, trying to piece it together.
That kid looked maybe five or six.
Five or six.
Eight years. I'd been gone eight years.
So that means, just two or three years after I got locked up, Sarah damn, she...?
My blood boiled.
My temples were throbbing like crazy.
"Sarah."
My voice came out hoarse. Even I barely recognized it.
"Who's the father? Who did you have him with?"
Sarah didn't answer me.
She fussed over Max, checking his back where it was all red from the kick, and he was wailing his lungs out.
Lily was huddled in the corner, scared stiff, her eyes red from holding back tears.
"Answer me!"
I roared, my voice echoing through the room.
The force of my shout stunned everyone in the room.
The boy's wailing cut off instantly, and Lily's shoulders jerked in fright.
Sarah finally looked up at me, her face streaked with tears, her lips quivering.
But there was no guilt in her eyes.
Just anger.
"Edward, you've been gone for eight years, and the first thing you do when you walk in is kick a kid?" she snapped.
"Who is this kid? Where did he come from?" I demanded.
"You owe him an apology!"
"Apologize my ass!"
I slammed my hand against the wall, making the keys in the entryway jingle.
"I spent eight damn years in there! Eight years! Who do you think I did all that for? For you and Lily! And this is what I come home to? This is how you waited for me?" I shouted.
Sarah stood up, set the boy down on the sofa, and turned to face me.
She took a deep breath, her chest heaving with emotion.
"Let me explain," she said.
"Explain! Right now, Sarah!"
"This kid..."
She hesitated.
Her eyes flickered away from mine.
"He's Richard's."
I couldn't believe what I just heard.
"Whose?"
"Richard's."
It was Richard.
Bluewave Holdings.
Richard Bennett, the bastard who let me rot in prison for him.
The same Richard who swore he'd give me 30 million dollars and look after my family.
And now, my wife went and had a kid with him.
I took a step back.
My leg bumped into the shoe rack, but I didn't even feel it.
"You're saying this kid is Richard's?"
"Yes."
Her voice was low, but steady.
"I married him three years ago."
The living room went dead silent for three seconds.
I could hear my own breathing, heavy, urgent, like a rusted bellows.
She got married. Just like that.
She married Richard Bennett.
While I was locked up in Ridgewood Prison for him, he went and married my wife.
He took my wife to bed.
He knocked her up and had a bastard.
And he even let his bastard ride my daughter like a horse.
I'd never felt rage this sharp and clear in my life.
It wasn't the kind that makes you lose your mind and go berserk.
It was a chill crawling up my spine, inch by inch.
Until it froze me right to the top of my skull.
My fingertips went white from the cold.
"What about the 30 million dollars?" I asked.
Sarah paused, looking confused. "What?"
"The 30 million dollars Richard promised me. Did it ever show up?"
Sarah looked away.
That was all the answer I needed.
It never came.
Not a damn cent.
I did eight years for him.
He took my freedom and ran.
He stole my wife.
He snatched my daughter away.
And he stiffed me out of 30 million dollars.