Sometimes split your life into the past and the future.
The photo Caleb sent was one of them.
Noah—my son—alone in a black room, his small face contorted in a silent scream. That image seared itself into my brain like a brand.
And the message?
"You trusted the wrong man. I'll show you what real family is like."
I couldn't breathe.
Not for several seconds.
And when the air did come, it felt like fire.
Rhyland was pacing. Phone pressed to his ear. Voice low and sharp as he gave the address, the threat, the full story to whoever was on the other end.
"…he made contact again. He has the child. Yes. Sent a picture—yes, I'll forward it."
I just stood there, trembling, I could hear my heart thumping in my ear. It was like the end of the world.
My legs did give way, and I fell into the nearest chair. Everything was hazy. Everything was wrong.
Rhyland hung up the phone and turned to me.
"They're monitoring the count now," he said, kneeling beside me. "Police are mobilizing. They have a team assigned to Caleb now. They're taking it seriously."
"Seriously?" I gasped, my voice raw. "Seriously?"
He was disturbed, just a little.
"My son is lost. Missing, Rhyland. I trusted you. I opened our lives, our routine, to you. And he—he exploited that access."
"I didn't provide him with anything—"
No, you just gave him a reason. You sold him a fantasy. And he's turning it into a nightmare."
"I'm going to make this right."
"No," I barked. "You don't get to make this right. This isn't one of your deals or a press release gone wrong. This is my son. My baby. And he's not a bargaining chip.".
"I know that. Emery—God, I know. I was wrong. But I swear to you, I will bring him home."
I looked into his eyes—those same eyes I'd kissed two nights ago. The same ones I'd let see me in a way no one else had.
And I didn't see a liar now.
I saw a man drowning in his regret.
The hours that followed were a blur.
A full investigation was launched. Detectives. Technology experts. Lawyers. My brother. All and none of them, whirling around me like madness itself.
But my mind was all I could focus on Noah.
How scared he must be.
How I couldn't hold him.
How I had failed him.
I went to my room, barricaded the door, and clung to the corner spot by the closet; like when I was sixteen and my parents screamed too loud too quietly.
I was still there when Rhyland knocked on the door.
"Emery?"
I didn't answer.
He knocked again, more gently. "We found something. Please open the door."
I stood up, creaky legs, and opened it.
His face was pinched, but there was that glimmer in his eyes now.
"They followed the burner phone Caleb used. He lost it at a gas station on I-87 North. That's a two-hour head start, but they have traffic cameras and a possible vehicular identification match."
My heart is racing.
"Do they know where he's going?"
"Best bet? The cabin."
"What cabin?"
Rhyland rubbed the back of his neck. "His family had a home in the Adirondacks. His mother left it to him before she passed away. It's out there. No neighbours. No cell coverage for miles."
"You think he's taken Noah with him?"
"I'd stake everything I have on it."
I didn't even pause.
"Then we go."
Rhyland blinked. "The police are—
"I'm not sitting here for the sake of it. Either you ride with me, or I go alone."
His face hardened. "Then I drive."
The ride was a blur of headlights, wind, and tension thick enough to chew through. I stared out the window most of the way, fighting to keep myself together.
Rhyland didn't say much.
Maybe he knew better than to fill the silence.
I didn't need comfort.
I needed my son.
And I wanted to see what Caleb looked like when I brought him home.
The roads narrowed as we drove deeper into the woods. Cell reception faded. Trees grew taller. The world grew quieter.
And then Rhyland let the car slow.
"There."
In front of us, a cabin sat tucked among the trees—wooden, grey, a porch groaning with age. One tiny window dimly glowed.
I yanked the door open before the car had come to a stop.
"Emery—wait!"
I was already moving.
My heart thumped inside my chest, each step fueled by rage, terror, and the panic-stricken desire to wrap my baby inside me again.
I reached the porch.
The hinges of the front door creaked.
And Caleb emerged.
With Noah in his arms.
"Don't come any closer," Caleb said.
His voice was low. Even. Too even.
"Give him to me," I barked. "Now."
Noah cried in his arms, eyes empty, cheeks stained with tears.
He took one step towards me, arms outstretched.
"Momma!"
That cracked something inside of me so hard that I almost fell.
"I missed you," Caleb said. "He missed you too."
"Put him down," Rhyland snarled behind me.
Caleb smiled.
"You always did love playing hero, though. You're not suited for this kind of war."
I moved into the space ahead of me.
"Caleb, this isn't you. This isn't you. You are not a kidnapper. This is just—you're lost, confused. This isn't how it's done."
He laughed.
"I'm the only one telling him the truth. You filled his world with lies."
"He's two!" I screamed. "He needs his mother. Not your warped notion of a second chance."
Caleb's smile vanished.
For an instant, I thought he might give Noah up.
And then—
He turned.
Started to go back inside.
"No!"
Rhyland pushed forward.
I followed.
And chaos broke out.
It all flashed by in seconds.
Yelling.
A fist.
The crash of something.
I shoved off and caught Noah in my arms when Caleb released him.
I collapsed to the ground with him tucked to my chest, shielding his head, sobbing as he clung to me.
"I got you, baby," I whispered. "I got you."
Rhyland and Caleb battled in the distance, their yells and grunts and thuds ringing off trees.
Wood splintered.
Fists flew.
Blood sprayed.
Then—sirens.
Blue and red lights flashed through the window as multiple cars skidded into the clearing.
Offices burst in seconds.
"Hands up! Now!"
Caleb did not fight.
Not when he saw them.
Not when they dragged him out.
Not when they slapped cuffs on his wrists.
He grinned instead.
"I'll see you again," he said.
And I knew, with a grim certainty, that he believed he would.
We spent the night at a precinct local.
Statements.
Pictures.
Medical examinations.
Hours passed in a blur of exhaustion and disbelief.
Noah hung around me like a shadow.
Rhyland stayed by my side.
Not ever.
When we returned to the penthouse the next day, I walked right into my room, crawled onto the bed with Noah, and closed my eyes.
I did not sleep.
I simply existed.
Floating.
Waiting.
That evening, Rhyland knocked on the door.
"May I?"
I nodded.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
Glanced at Noah.
And then at me.
"I thought I lost you both last night," he said.
"You nearly did."
"I'll never forgive myself for the way this started."
"Neither will I."
He swallowed. "But I'm not giving up."
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know how.
I wanted to trust him again.
But trust wasn't a light switch.
It was glass.
And it had shattered.
Later that night, afte
r Noah finally slept, I found a new envelope on the door.
No return address.
Inside?
A single sheet of paper.
Typed.
"This isn't over. You've made enemies. And not just him."
Below that, is a symbol. One I didn't recognize.
And for the very first time, I understood
Caleb was not working in isolation.