Chapter 1 - Let Go of My Son
“LET GO OF MY SON!”
The words cracked through the marble hall so hard that half the room jumped.
I had been home for less than ten seconds.
One moment, I was stepping through the double doors of my parents’ mansion, still wearing my overcoat from the airport. The next, I saw my four-year-old son, Noah, stumbling across the polished floor while my fiancée, Celeste Ward, dragged him by one wrist.
He was crying so hard he could barely breathe.
“Daddy!”
That one word hit me like a fist.
Three feet away, our maid, Anna Reyes, was on her knees.
“Please,” she begged. “You’re hurting his arm.”
Celeste leaned down toward her, still holding Noah.
“Stay out of this.”
I stopped.
Every conversation in the hallway died.
Men in tuxedos turned. Women holding champagne went still. My father’s charity guests stared as though they had suddenly realized the evening entertainment was no longer the string quartet.
I walked toward Celeste.
“What are you doing to him?”
Her head snapped around.
For the first time since I had known her, Celeste looked afraid.
Only for a second.
Then the polished smile came back.
“Ethan. You’re early.”
I kept walking.
Noah tried to pull away from her.
She tightened her grip.
That was a mistake.
“Let him go.”
“Don’t make a scene.”
“You are the scene.”
A few guests quietly stepped back.
My mother, Margaret Cole, appeared near the staircase. Her face had gone pale.
Celeste lowered her voice.
“He had a tantrum. Anna interfered. I handled it.”
Anna looked up at me.
“No, sir.”
Celeste shot her a warning glance.
Anna flinched.
I noticed.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Noah spilled juice on Miss Ward’s dress,” Anna whispered. “She grabbed him and—”
“Liar,” Celeste said.
Noah hid behind my leg the moment she finally released him.
I crouched.
“Buddy, look at me.”
His cheeks were wet. His lower lip shook.
“She said Mommy was dead because I was bad.”
The hall went silent in a new way.
Not shocked.
Guilty.
I slowly stood.
Celeste’s face hardened.
“He misunderstood.”
“No,” Noah said.
His tiny hand reached into his jacket.
He pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I found this in her room.”
Celeste moved faster than I expected.
She lunged for it.
Anna grabbed her wrist.
The paper fell between us.
I picked it up.
It was a letter.
My dead wife’s name was at the top.
EMILY COLE.
May you like
And underneath it, in handwriting I recognized immediately, were six words that made my blood turn cold.
Ethan, if anything happens to me—
