Belle's heart skipped a beat as the knock boomed through the quiet house. Her breath froze in her throat and her body tightened. The day had already been weighty with unsaid dread; but, this... this felt different. Her hand floated over the door doorknob as she paused. At this hour, who could it be? She had hoped, fervently prayed, that they were safe. Deep down, though, she knew better. She made herself open the door with a soft sigh. There, on her porch, was a face she hadn't seen in years. A face from her history. A man she once knew as a friend, his loyalty constantly linked to Alistair. Impeccably dressed as usual, the lawyer stood there with a cool smile and sharp gaze. Belle's stomach turned. The last time she had seen him, he was part of Alistair's world, a world she had battled so hard to leave. But there he was, standing in front of her as though time had never gone. "Belle," he remarked, his voice frigid, remote. Though she stayed motionless, hesitant to allow him over
"What are you doing here?" she inquired, her voice quivering despite her efforts to remain calm. Her knuckles were white and her fingers clutched the desk edge as though it could keep her stable. Alistair's lips curled into a deliberate, predatory grin. Belle, I'm come to see my son. I came for him. Her heart raced. "You have no right," she replied, the words sounding strange in her throat. "Not after all you have done." With every passing second, the space between them shrank and the air between them appeared to grow denser. Alistair entered the room, his hawk-like gaze sweeping the workplace. He never let his eyes off hers; a sinister pleasure sparkled in his eyes. "I have every right," he responded quietly, almost threateningly. "I always do." Though she would not give up, Belle's palm shook on the desk. "Not any more," she responded, this time more forcefully. The instant you turned your back on us, you lost your opportunity. Still staring at Belle, Alistair moved deeper int
The phone rang twice before Bernard answered, his voice harsh with desperation. Belle? Are you all right? "I don't know," she said, trembling. Alistair is present. He's returned. I, She broke off, sensing the tears about to flow. Steadying herself, she took a long breath. Bernard, I can no longer run. Not like this, I can't guard him. Bernard said fast, "Don't panic." Where are you? "I'm in the office," she said, her gaze flitting to the window. The outer world seemed far away, strange to her now. I believed I had time. I assumed he wouldn't locate us. The other end of the line hesitated. Then Bernard spoke again, low and somber. You don't get it, Belle. Alistair will not rest. Theodore will be pursued by him. He's going to try to get him. Her belly fell. The words struck her more than she had anticipated. Theodore Her child. He was all she had left, everything that counted. The idea of losing him, of Alistair snatching him from her, was enough to make her knees go weak. Her voi
"Belle," Bernard's voice sounded low and frantic. Worried, he entered the room. We have to talk. Belle remained still. She already understood his remarks. The moment Alistair's name crossed her mind again, she had sensed it approaching. Though she had been attempting to ignore it, Bernard's gaze informed her it was genuine. It was going on. Bernard went on, "Alistair's fixation is not something that disappears. He will not rest till he has his desire. Her heart hammering in her chest, Belle rose slowly. Her fingers clutched the edge of her desk firmly as she gazed out the window. I had known that for some time. Running is not something I can do always. Bernard moved closer and his eyes softened. You cannot keep him away. He will not stop, Belle. You have to get ready. He's coming; when he arrives, it will be worse than before. She tried to hold back the tears by swallowing hard. To create a life outside of Alistair's reach, she had worked really hard to safeguard Theodore. Every
Belle's pulse hammered as she dashed to the window, her gaze scanning the street underneath. Though the street seemed deserted, the sun was lowering, throwing deep shadows over the sidewalk. No indication of Alistair. No indication of any suspicious person. Her breath caught and for a time she believed she could hear her pulse in her ears. Trying to see over the vacant street, she pressed her palm against the chilly glass and pushed closer to the window. It was too silent. Too still. The fear that had been hiding in the back of her mind finally sank into the pit of her stomach. He has been observing us all along. Alistair had always known where they sat. She had been so thorough and careful, yet it was never enough. The idea of him constantly a step ahead, lurking close by, made her skin crawl. Feeling the walls of her tiny office closing in on her, she moved back from the window. How long had he been following them? How long had he been this near? Turning, she attempted to gather
Belle, you should have come to me voluntarily, Alistair said, his voice ringing in her head, cool and collected. You will now pay the cost. Her eyes flew open. Like a burden in her chest, Alistair's words stuck to her. His constant desire to control her life had never changed; now, with Theodore's future in jeopardy, she was compelled to face the precise thing she had been fleeing. A chill crept up her back. Theodore was not something she could lose. She would not. The door behind her creaked open; she spun around, half-expecting to find Alistair waiting there to finally take her down. It was just the office's stillness, though. The room was also filled with the soft hum of the air conditioning, too calm, too quiet. Alistair's warning hung in the air, suffocing her. She had to act quickly. Every second mattered. But one thing she was certain of: she wasn't going to make it simple for him. This time, she would not give in. She would battle. Buzzing on the desk, Belle's phone brok
"Belle Blackwell," the bailiff shouted. In the sterile quiet, her name reverberated. Her breathing was shallow and fast as she stepped toward the witness stand, straightening her back. Every step seemed to be a fight. Her eyes found Alistair's as she sank into the seat. As his lawyer sifted through paperwork, his lips curled into a little smirk. The only thing that stopped her from stumbling was the idea of her son and his innocent eyes. For him, she had to remain resilient. The seductive voice previously known, Alistair's attorney stood up. We are here today, ladies and gentlemen of the court, to talk about little Theodore Blackwell's custody. The one who can offer the most stable, safe atmosphere holds a child's destiny in their hands. Belle Blackwell, we all know, Alistair's side rippled with a whisper of appreciation. His eyes stayed on hers as he reclined back. Belle swallowed, the metal flavor in her mouth. He was so certain of himself. He had overplanned this. The voice of
"Should I open it?" he whispered to himself, nearly as if seeking permission. Staring back at him from the tablet's screen, his reflection showed eyes wide with the burden of his own choices. He tapped the first file without allowing himself another opportunity to reconsider. A screen for passwords showed up. Theodore looked over his shoulder and leaned back in his chair to make sure no one was around. He had to be cautious as he had no idea what sort of havoc he was about to cause. Typing in a few possibilities, names, dates, the keys on the screen felt alien under his touch. Then, on a hunch, he attempted his mother's birthday. The file opened and the screen flickered. Cold, clinical, a thorough study of the Kensington family's financial activities, a list of assets and holdings, the paper's contents were One aspect, however, drew his notice: his own birth. The day. The frigid, distant tongue. "Theodore Kensington," the paper started, "born under dubious conditions. Unfortunate
Theodore's eyes adapted to the dim light; he saw files that appeared to draw him closer, boxes coated in cobwebs, and shelves brimming with old volumes. Walking toward the far corner of the room, he found a wooden cabinet half-hidden beneath piles of papers. Theodore cautiously unlocked the cabinet as his fingers glided across its surface. Though their contents were far from usual, inside were dozens of file folders, each carefully labeled. Pulling one off the shelf, its label worn but readable: Kensington Family History, his heart raced. Though the final folder at the bottom drew his attention, the files were packed with information, birth records, bank paperwork, old photographs. His fingers quivering with expectation, he opened it carefully. There, in a tattered paper, was his father's birth record. The tidy writing covered the fundamentals: date, place, surname. Theodore hesitated, though, at the way the paper crinkled and felt more weighty than the rest. He looked down at the
"Your mother loves you very much, Theodore," Lucy replied, her voice soft. But she doesn't always know what's best for you. She's... you know, emotional. Occasionally, her choices are focused on emotions rather than what is best for your future. Theodore looked up from his play to see his grandmother. Though he didn't quite get them, he felt their words sink into his chest. His mother had always been nice and protective; how could anything she did be incorrect? Lucy's tone became more personal as she leaned forward a bit. Haven't you heard your father talk about all the great things he can give you? The journeys, the knowledge, the life he has guaranteed you. Still, your mother prevents you from experiencing any of it. Theodore, why? Doesn't that make you question whether she actually knows what is best? Theodore stared at the goodies before him, his head spinning with uncertainty. He had never considered his mother in such a manner. Lucy’s comments put something fresh, something a
Belle stood in front of the mirror, her reflection looking back at her with a mix of surprise and determination. Alistair's courtroom fight had finished in his favor, and she felt as though the walls were closing in on her. The man meant to safeguard her and their children was suddenly the one actually endangering their family disintegration. Every day spent with him served as a reminder that he controlled everything: her, Theodore, and all else. But not any more. She had decided. Belle walked across the room, ignoring the papers strewn over the desk. Running through the processes in her head, her heart raced and her thoughts raced. She could not remain here. Not in this home, not with him. The idea of Theodore maturing under Alistair's control made one cringe. The orders, the control, the cruel comments she could already hear. Her gaze remained fixed on the little suitcase by the bed. She had packed it before, just in case, but now it was more than just a precaution. It was all th
"Should I open it?" he whispered to himself, nearly as if seeking permission. Staring back at him from the tablet's screen, his reflection showed eyes wide with the burden of his own choices. He tapped the first file without allowing himself another opportunity to reconsider. A screen for passwords showed up. Theodore looked over his shoulder and leaned back in his chair to make sure no one was around. He had to be cautious as he had no idea what sort of havoc he was about to cause. Typing in a few possibilities, names, dates, the keys on the screen felt alien under his touch. Then, on a hunch, he attempted his mother's birthday. The file opened and the screen flickered. Cold, clinical, a thorough study of the Kensington family's financial activities, a list of assets and holdings, the paper's contents were One aspect, however, drew his notice: his own birth. The day. The frigid, distant tongue. "Theodore Kensington," the paper started, "born under dubious conditions. Unfortunate
"Belle Blackwell," the bailiff shouted. In the sterile quiet, her name reverberated. Her breathing was shallow and fast as she stepped toward the witness stand, straightening her back. Every step seemed to be a fight. Her eyes found Alistair's as she sank into the seat. As his lawyer sifted through paperwork, his lips curled into a little smirk. The only thing that stopped her from stumbling was the idea of her son and his innocent eyes. For him, she had to remain resilient. The seductive voice previously known, Alistair's attorney stood up. We are here today, ladies and gentlemen of the court, to talk about little Theodore Blackwell's custody. The one who can offer the most stable, safe atmosphere holds a child's destiny in their hands. Belle Blackwell, we all know, Alistair's side rippled with a whisper of appreciation. His eyes stayed on hers as he reclined back. Belle swallowed, the metal flavor in her mouth. He was so certain of himself. He had overplanned this. The voice of
Belle, you should have come to me voluntarily, Alistair said, his voice ringing in her head, cool and collected. You will now pay the cost. Her eyes flew open. Like a burden in her chest, Alistair's words stuck to her. His constant desire to control her life had never changed; now, with Theodore's future in jeopardy, she was compelled to face the precise thing she had been fleeing. A chill crept up her back. Theodore was not something she could lose. She would not. The door behind her creaked open; she spun around, half-expecting to find Alistair waiting there to finally take her down. It was just the office's stillness, though. The room was also filled with the soft hum of the air conditioning, too calm, too quiet. Alistair's warning hung in the air, suffocing her. She had to act quickly. Every second mattered. But one thing she was certain of: she wasn't going to make it simple for him. This time, she would not give in. She would battle. Buzzing on the desk, Belle's phone brok
Belle's pulse hammered as she dashed to the window, her gaze scanning the street underneath. Though the street seemed deserted, the sun was lowering, throwing deep shadows over the sidewalk. No indication of Alistair. No indication of any suspicious person. Her breath caught and for a time she believed she could hear her pulse in her ears. Trying to see over the vacant street, she pressed her palm against the chilly glass and pushed closer to the window. It was too silent. Too still. The fear that had been hiding in the back of her mind finally sank into the pit of her stomach. He has been observing us all along. Alistair had always known where they sat. She had been so thorough and careful, yet it was never enough. The idea of him constantly a step ahead, lurking close by, made her skin crawl. Feeling the walls of her tiny office closing in on her, she moved back from the window. How long had he been following them? How long had he been this near? Turning, she attempted to gather
"Belle," Bernard's voice sounded low and frantic. Worried, he entered the room. We have to talk. Belle remained still. She already understood his remarks. The moment Alistair's name crossed her mind again, she had sensed it approaching. Though she had been attempting to ignore it, Bernard's gaze informed her it was genuine. It was going on. Bernard went on, "Alistair's fixation is not something that disappears. He will not rest till he has his desire. Her heart hammering in her chest, Belle rose slowly. Her fingers clutched the edge of her desk firmly as she gazed out the window. I had known that for some time. Running is not something I can do always. Bernard moved closer and his eyes softened. You cannot keep him away. He will not stop, Belle. You have to get ready. He's coming; when he arrives, it will be worse than before. She tried to hold back the tears by swallowing hard. To create a life outside of Alistair's reach, she had worked really hard to safeguard Theodore. Every
The phone rang twice before Bernard answered, his voice harsh with desperation. Belle? Are you all right? "I don't know," she said, trembling. Alistair is present. He's returned. I, She broke off, sensing the tears about to flow. Steadying herself, she took a long breath. Bernard, I can no longer run. Not like this, I can't guard him. Bernard said fast, "Don't panic." Where are you? "I'm in the office," she said, her gaze flitting to the window. The outer world seemed far away, strange to her now. I believed I had time. I assumed he wouldn't locate us. The other end of the line hesitated. Then Bernard spoke again, low and somber. You don't get it, Belle. Alistair will not rest. Theodore will be pursued by him. He's going to try to get him. Her belly fell. The words struck her more than she had anticipated. Theodore Her child. He was all she had left, everything that counted. The idea of losing him, of Alistair snatching him from her, was enough to make her knees go weak. Her voi