Chapter 4I Birthed His Secret Wife’s Baby

I didn't think. I just grabbed my keys, sprinted to my car, and drove like a maniac.

Ten minutes later, I was throwing my shoulder against Cheryl’s heavy mahogany front door until the lock gave way.

I burst into the living room. Cheryl was standing there, looking annoyed. In her arms, Toby was thrashing, violently scratching at his neck. His breaths were coming in short, agonizing wheezes.

When she saw me, her face contorted with rage.

"What the hell are you doing?! Get the fuck out of my house!" She aggressively shifted Toby to her hip, turning her back to me to hide him.

I pointed at my son, cold sweat dripping down my spine. "Are you insane?! He's going into anaphylactic shock! Call an ambulance!"

"He is not! Stop making up lies!" Cheryl screamed, marching over and shoving me hard in the chest. "Get out! You psycho bitch, you're just looking for an excuse to steal my husband and my kid! If you ever come back here, I'll carve up your face!"

Toby’s skin was turning a terrifying shade of red. He was sobbing, a horrific, raspy sound. He saw me over her shoulder and desperately reached out, his tiny fingers hooking into the fabric of my sweater.

"Mommy... Mommy, it hurts..."

Cheryl didn't even look at him. She was entirely consumed with her hatred for me, slapping at my arms and screaming obscenities in my face.

Something inside my brain just snapped.

I grabbed her wrist, twisted it hard, and used my momentum to throw her to the hardwood floor.

"Ahhh!" she shrieked, curling into a ball and clutching her arm.

I didn't hesitate. I scooped Toby into my arms and bolted for the front door.

But as I crossed the threshold, I slammed directly into Drew’s solid chest.

He staggered back, his eyes darting from me, to the crying child in my arms, to his wife sobbing on the floor. His face turned thunderous.

"Jolie, what the fuck is wrong with you?! Put him down!"

Cheryl wailed from the floor, pointing a trembling finger at me. "Drew! She broke in! She's trying to kidnap Toby! Call the police and lock this bitch up!"

I gripped Toby tighter, my chest heaving. "No! I'm not kidnapping him! He's having an allergic reaction! He needs an EpiPen, he needs a hospital!"

"Enough!" Drew barked. He looked at me with absolute, chilling disgust. There wasn't a shred of belief in his eyes. He stepped toward me, his sheer size intimidating. "Stop the goddamn theatrics, Jo. Hand him over."

Toby had stopped fighting. His little head lolled against my collarbone, his breathing terrifyingly shallow.

My heart was tearing itself to shreds. I braced my legs, preparing to run past him, to fight my way to the car.

But Drew anticipated it. He lunged, blocking my path and shoving me hard by the shoulders. I lost my balance and crashed onto the porch.

Drew ripped Toby from my arms. I scrambled forward, sobbing, gripping the leg of Drew's trousers.

"Look at him! Just look at him, Drew! He's losing consciousness!"

A sharp kick caught me in the shoulder. Cheryl had scrambled up and thrown herself on top of me, her nails digging into my scalp as she beat me.

"Stay away from my son, you fucking psycho!"

Neighbors were stepping out onto their lawns, their phones out, murmuring in horror.

"Is she trying to kidnap the kid? Jesus."

"Someone call the cops! Hold her down!"

I screamed, a sound of pure agony. Hearing it, Drew frowned. He looked down at me with a flicker of hesitation. For a fraction of a second, his grip loosened.

And in that moment, the child in his arms—limp and boneless as a ragdoll—slipped downward.

Drew froze. A terrible buzzing filled his ears. Slowly, agonizingly, he looked down at the boy in his hands.

And what he saw made his heart completely stop.