A few days later, Leon received a tip from one of his investigators. They had uncovered a series of encrypted messages between Kent and an unknown contact, detailing payments and plans that aligned with Lucas’s kidnapping.“This is it,” Leon said, his voice steely as he showed me the evidence.My stomach churned as I read the messages. “So, what happens now?”“I hand this over to the authorities,” Leon said, his tone firm. “But I’m not stopping there. Kent needs to know that he messed with the wrong family.”I placed a hand on his arm. “Leon, I want justice too, but we have to be careful. Lucas needs us to be here for him.”Leon’s eyes softened, and he pulled me into a hug. “I know. I’ll make sure we’re protected. I promise.”That night, as Lucas slept peacefully for the first time since the ordeal, Leon and I sat together, watching over him.“We’ll get through this,” I whispered, leaning into Leon.He wrapped an arm around me, his gaze fixed on Lucas. “We will. And we’ll make sure he
That evening, after Lucas had gone to bed, Leon and I sat in the living room. The soft hum of the baby monitor was the only sound in the room.“Today was a good day,” Leon said, his voice quiet but hopeful.I nodded, leaning against him. “It’s a start. Seeing him smile again… it reminded me that we’re not losing him completely.”Leon’s arm wrapped around me, pulling me close. “We won’t lose him, Margarette. He’s strong, just like his mom.”I gave a small laugh, wiping away a tear. “And his dad.”Leon kissed the top of my head. “We’ll get through this. No matter how long it takes, we’ll get our boy back.”Just as we were beginning to settle into this new rhythm, the phone rang late one evening. It was one of the detectives working on Lucas’s case.“We’ve made progress,” the detective said. “We’ve located a potential lead on the kidnappers’ whereabouts. It might be connected to Kent’s operation.”My heart skipped a beat. “Do you have proof?”“Not yet, but we’re closing in. We’ll need Le
The next few weeks felt like a delicate balancing act. Every decision we made revolved around Lucas—his routines, his therapy sessions, and his healing process. Despite the difficulties, Leon and I were committed to staying strong for him.One afternoon, during one of Lucas’s therapy sessions, Dr. Marlow invited Leon and me to join him. It was a special session meant to bridge the gap between Lucas’s inner fears and his trust in us as his parents.Lucas sat on a small couch, clutching his favorite stuffed animal. He looked up at me with wide, uncertain eyes as Dr. Marlow guided us through an activity.“Lucas,” she said gently, “can you show Mommy and Daddy how you feel when you think about the scary day?”Lucas hesitated, then slowly drew a picture on a piece of paper. It was a simple but heartbreaking image—a stick figure of a small boy surrounded by dark shadows.I felt my chest tighten as I knelt beside him. “That must have been really scary, sweetheart,” I said softly, my voice tr
It was a quiet afternoon, the kind of day that seemed to stretch endlessly as Leon and I watched over Lucas. He was resting in the living room, his favorite blanket wrapped tightly around him as he sat on the couch, flipping aimlessly through a picture book. His usual enthusiasm was still absent, and every little thing he did reminded me of how much he had endured.The doorbell rang, cutting through the silence. I glanced at Leon, who nodded and went to answer it. A moment later, Aunt Lou stepped in, her warm smile a welcome sight.But she wasn’t alone.Standing beside her was a little boy, probably around Lucas’s age. He had a neatly combed head of dark curls, bright eyes, and a shy smile. He clutched a small gift bag in one hand and looked up at me with an almost exaggerated politeness.“Hello, Aunt Margarette,” he said, his voice clear and respectful. “I’m Tomas. May I please see Lucas?”I blinked in surprise, glancing at Aunt Lou for an explanation.“Tomas is Lucas’s best friend f
The days that followed Aunt Lou’s visit brought a glimmer of hope. Lucas seemed to find solace in Tomas’s presence, and the change in him was undeniable. The dark cloud of fear that had hung over him was slowly lifting, replaced by moments of joy that warmed my heart.Each time Tomas visited, Lucas’s laughter grew louder, his smiles brighter. They would sit for hours, coloring, building block towers, and sharing secrets only they could understand. Tomas had a way of grounding Lucas, reminding him of simpler, happier times before everything changed.One evening, as the boys built a fort in the living room, I found myself leaning against the doorway, watching them with a mix of awe and gratitude. “He looks so much happier,” I murmured to Leon, who had come up behind me.Leon wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Tomas is good for him. It’s like he’s helping Lucas remember how to just be a kid again.”After weeks of improvement, Leon and I decided it was time to take another step forward—
After the harrowing revelation about Lucas's bullies, I couldn’t just sit idly by and let things fester. My maternal instincts kicked into overdrive, and I knew I had to step in—not just for Lucas, but for every child who might be suffering silently.That’s how I found myself signing up as a candidate for the Parent-Teacher Association (PTA) presidency. I needed a platform to address the bullying issue directly, and what better way than to hold a position of influence within the daycare?My decision wasn’t met without resistance. Sandra Murphy, the long-time president of the PTA and practically the daycare’s unofficial queen bee, wasn’t too thrilled about my sudden entry into the election.“Oh, Margarette,” she said with a tight smile during one of our encounters. “Running for PTA president is a big responsibility. Are you sure you’re ready for something so...demanding?”I matched her smile, refusing to back down. “I think being a mother is already a demanding job, Sandra. This is jus
The weeks following my election as PTA president were a whirlwind of meetings, new policies, and adjustments. Despite the challenges, there was a renewed energy at the daycare. Parents began to engage more, the teachers reported fewer incidents, and Lucas was slowly finding his confidence again.But one afternoon, as Leon and I arrived to pick Lucas up, we noticed something that stirred our concern. Lucas was sitting on the playground bench, his expression distant as other children played around him.I immediately walked over and knelt beside him. "Lucas, sweetheart, is everything okay?"He looked at me, his eyes hesitant, and then nodded. "I’m okay, Mommy," he murmured, but his tone was unconvincing.Leon crouched on his other side. "Buddy, you can tell us anything," he said gently. "We’re here for you."Lucas hesitated before finally speaking. "I just… I feel like everyone’s watching me now, like they’re waiting for me to mess up."My heart broke at his words. Even though we had made
The weeks following the successful playdate saw even more progress in Lucas. His confidence grew steadily, and he began to thrive not just at daycare but also at home. He laughed more, shared his thoughts openly, and no longer hesitated to express his feelings. Leon and I couldn’t have been prouder.One evening, as Leon returned from his office, he handed me an envelope with the daycare's logo on it. "This came in the mail today," he said, raising an eyebrow.I opened it, curiosity bubbling within me. Inside was a beautifully handwritten letter from Lucas’s teacher, Mrs. Ellison:Dear Mr. and Mrs. Kwartz,I wanted to personally reach out to commend the remarkable progress Lucas has made over the past few weeks. His enthusiasm, kindness, and leadership in the classroom have been inspiring. Recently, he even took it upon himself to comfort a classmate who was feeling left out, demonstrating empathy far beyond his years.Thank you for being such supportive and loving parents. Lucas is a
I stood barefoot on the damp sand, the wind weaving through my hair like invisible fingers, the sea humming a lullaby that had become the heartbeat of our peaceful island life. Leon stood beside me, his hand resting on the curve of my growing belly. It had become our evening ritual, watching the sunset together, our two kids—Isla and Theo—laughing somewhere behind us, chasing each other with sticks and seashells.I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the sound of the waves steady my heart. This place—this little paradise Leon bought for our third child—had become more than a retreat. It was a dream he turned into a promise. But even dreams, I had come to learn, were fragile."She kicked again," I said softly.Leon turned, his eyes lighting up. He dropped to his knees and pressed his ear against my belly. "Hey, little one. You trying to tell us something?"I laughed, running my fingers through his hair. We had built a world here—away from pain, betrayal, and danger. For nearly a year,
The next twenty-four hours unfolded like a twisted thriller novel—one where every moment felt more surreal than the last.Leon doubled the patrols and locked down the main house with a level of precision that made me feel both safe and deeply unsettled. We weren’t just protecting Angela and Riley anymore; we were protecting our entire family, our children, and the unborn life growing inside me. I absentmindedly touched my belly throughout the day—our third child, already making their presence known in subtle kicks and flutters.Leon noticed, of course. He always noticed.“You okay?” he asked quietly that afternoon, his arm curling protectively around my waist as we stood by the nursery window, watching Isla and the twins playing with their nannies in the garden below.“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I want to be. I should be. But Victoria… she’s like a shadow. I can feel her even when she’s not there.”Leon didn’t speak right away. Instead, he pressed a kiss to my temple and rested his h
Days passed in a blur of uncertainty. Leon worked late into the night, organizing security measures, making phone calls. He reached out to his contacts in Anacortes, hoping to get a lead on the source of the letter. Meanwhile, I tried to keep things normal for the children. I kept the island life as idyllic as possible, determined not to let the shadow of the unknown consume us completely.But the truth was, I couldn’t ignore it. Not anymore.It wasn’t just Riley and Angela we had to worry about—it was us, too. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far worse.The morning the helicopter arrived, I knew something had changed.Leon had arranged for a private security team to monitor the island, just in case. The sound of the helicopter’s blades cutting through the air had become an all-too-familiar noise. But this time, when it landed, it wasn’t just the usual security team.It was Riley and Angela.And they didn’t look like the carefree couple th
The days that followed Victoria’s arrest felt like exhaling after holding our breath for far too long. Riley and Angela stayed on the island for a while longer, though it was clear they needed to forge a new chapter of their own. Angela had begun smiling again, truly smiling—without fear shadowing her eyes. Riley, too, softened. He built sandcastles with Liam and Lila, cooked with Leon, and talked with me late into the evening, often about forgiveness and starting over.And just like that, they left. Quietly, one morning, before the sun rose. A handwritten note on the kitchen table read:"Thank you for giving us this time, this place, and this chance to be free again. We’ll never forget it. Love, Riley & Angela."I folded the note and placed it in the drawer beside my bedside table, next to the ultrasound photo of our third child.Yes, our third. I was five months along by then—round and glowing, Leon would say, with that teasing smirk of his. Truthfully, I felt more like a sleepy, wa
One Month LaterPeace. Real, actual peace.It settled on our shoulders like a soft shawl, wrapping us in warmth we’d long forgotten existed. Riley and Angela decided to stay on the island for a few more weeks to heal, but soon they were talking about moving to a quieter part of Europe to start fresh. With Victoria behind bars and no more shadows to run from, they deserved that clean slate.As for us… we were starting to dream again.Life slowed into soft routines. Mornings began with giggles from Liam and Lila as they climbed into bed with us, demanding pancake breakfasts and treasure hunts on the beach. Isla—our tiny, perfect miracle—was thriving, always cooing and gurgling, her smile lighting up the room.And then came the moment.I was standing in the garden behind the cottage, barefoot on the grass, Isla napping in a basket under the shade while the twins dug in the sand nearby. Leon came out, holding something behind his back.“Close your eyes,” he said, grinning.I rolled mine a
Life on our secluded island had settled into a serene rhythm. Leon and I spent our days basking in the joy of raising our three children, the twins—Liam and Lila—and our newborn, Isla. The island, a paradise of golden sands and lush greenery, had become our sanctuary, far removed from the chaos of our past lives.One tranquil afternoon, as I lounged on the veranda watching the twins play by the shore, a distant speck on the horizon caught my eye. Squinting against the sun's glare, I realized it was a small boat, rowing frantically toward our island. My heart quickened. Visitors were unheard of here. Leon, noticing my unease, emerged from the house and followed my gaze.The boat drew closer, revealing two figures aboard. As they reached the shallows, a man leaped out, pulling the vessel onto the sand. He turned toward us, and recognition struck me like a bolt."Riley?" I called out, disbelief evident in my voice.Riley's face was etched with exhaustion and fear. Beside him, a woman
The next few days were filled with packing and preparations for the move. The kids were excited about the idea of living in a new place, and their enthusiasm helped ease some of my doubts. I watched them run around the house, laughing, playing, as Leon and I sorted through our things. They were so innocent, so unaware of the complexities of the world we lived in. I wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.By the time we were ready to leave, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. It wasn’t about abandoning anyone—it was about creating a future for us, a future where we could heal, grow, and be free from the shadows of our past.The private jet that Leon had arranged for us was waiting, and the twins couldn’t contain their excitement as we boarded. The journey felt surreal, like something out of a dream. We were starting over, building a new life, and for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful.When we finally arrived on the island, it exceeded all our expectations.
We visited Havenmoor two weeks later.The air was different there—salt-kissed and vibrant. The island’s green heart stretched wide with wild palms and flowering trees. A gentle wind rustled the leaves as we stepped onto the sand. Liana and Mateo were already running toward the waves, laughing as the tide splashed their feet.Leon held my hand as we walked up a narrow path toward the bluff where our future home would be built.“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, unable to hide my awe.“It’s yours,” he said. “Ours.”A local contractor met us at the site, showing us the blueprints. I could already picture it—Liana perched at the window seat with a book, Mateo in the garden chasing butterflies, the sound of waves echoing through our open windows.“This room will be for the baby,” Leon said, his voice lower now, reverent. “Facing east, so the sunlight comes in every morning.”I didn’t speak for a moment. Instead, I turned to him, tears threatening to spill. “You thought of everything.”He brush
The smell of cinnamon and warm bread wafted through the air as I stood in the sunlit kitchen, stirring a pot of soup with one hand and resting the other protectively over my growing belly. Outside the window, the sound of laughter echoed from the garden where Leon chased after our two children—Emilia, now three, and our spirited one-year-old, Julian. Their giggles bounced off the walls like music.Peace.For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, I could breathe.It had been a year since Elise’s arc ended—since we put an end to the nightmare that stole my parents and nearly took my life. The trial that followed felt like a bad dream, and with Dorian’s testimony and the evidence from my father’s study, Elise’s crimes—along with her father's legacy of corruption—were buried with their conviction.Leon and I moved on. We rebuilt our lives, one moment, one breath at a time.And now, as I stirred soup with the ease of a mother content in her routine, I was preparing to share somethin