Chapter 4We Parted When The Bellflowers Bloomed

A torrential rain began to beat against the shop windows. Andy was sleeping deeply in my arms.

Just as I laid him down on the small cot in the back room, my phone rang. It was the landlord.

"I am canceling your lease. I will return your deposit, but you need to pack your things and leave tonight."

I froze. "We have a signed contract. How can you simply throw us out? It is pouring outside. Where am I supposed to take a five-year-old child?"

"Someone purchased the entire building for ten times its value," the landlord explained, his voice defensive. "They specifically demanded that you be evicted immediately. There is nothing I can do."

He hung up.

A cold dread settled over me. Yvonne's retaliation was swifter and more ruthless than I had imagined.

"Andy, wake up, sweetheart. We have to go..."

I walked into the back room, and the air left my lungs. The cot was empty. The window was wide open, letting the cold rain spray onto the floor.

My son was gone.

I bolted toward the front door, ready to scream for help, but the door swung open and Yvonne stepped inside, flanked by several heavy-set bodyguards.

She tossed one of Andy's small sneakers onto the floor, wiping her hands with a look of disgust.

Panic turned into pure rage. I lunged at her, but the guards quickly pinned me to the floor, forcing my face against the cold tiles.

"Where is my son? He is only a baby! If you have a problem, take it out on me!"

Yvonne smiled, pulling out her phone and tapping a video.

On the screen, Andy was locked in the back seat of a car, sobbing hysterically and banging his small fists against the rain-streaked window.

My heart broke. Tears mingled with the dirt on my face.

He was the child I had nearly died to bring into this world. I had endured the agony of a back-alley clinic, biting my lip until it bled, just to hear his first cry. I had named him Christian, hiding a small piece of his father's name in his own, a final, secret connection to the man I used to love.

And now, he was being tormented because of me.

I stopped struggling, letting my body go limp under the guard's grip.

"I will leave," I rasped, my voice raw and broken. "I promise I will never return to Port Vista. Just give me my son."

I looked up at her, offering the words I knew she wanted to hear.

"Yvonne, I am a dead woman. My face is ruined, my body is out of shape. Even if you stripped me bare and threw me in front of Nolan, he wouldn't look at me twice. I will not get in your way."

I pressed my forehead against her shoes, begging for the life of my child.

Yvonne watched my humiliation with a satisfied smile. "Is that so? Then why don't you listen to how happy we are without you?"

She dialed Nolan's number and put it on speaker.

"Yvonne? Are you home yet?" Nolan's voice sounded distracted over the line. "I am still wrapping up some business, but I will be home soon. Stay safe."

"I am fine, darling," Yvonne cooed, her eyes locked onto me. "The baby just kicked. We both miss you so much."

Listening to their exchange, I felt nothing. My heart had been hollowed out long ago.

But neither of us had noticed the sound of heavy rain over Nolan's receiver, or the slight tremor in his voice.

Once the call ended, Yvonne raised her high heel and stamped it down hard onto my hand.

A sharp, blinding pain shot up my arm. I bit my lip, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a scream.

"That's better. This is exactly where you belong, Giselle. You owe me so much more than this."

Before she could say another word, the glass door was suddenly shattered.