Chapter 3

My heart slammed against my ribs with a violent, bruising force. I was frozen in the center of Terrence’s dimly lit study.

I had a fraction of a second to save myself.

If she realized I held the DNA test, Terrence would destroy the evidence. I would never get Jiro back. I would lose my son forever to the monsters who stole him. My mind raced, calculating every possible outcome in the span of a single heartbeat.

Relying on pure, desperate adrenaline, I let out a loud, hysterical sob.

I deliberately opened my hands, letting the stack of papers scatter all over the polished hardwood floor. I collapsed to my knees, acting like a woman completely unhinged by her own suffocating grief.

As I hit the ground, I subtly kicked the DNA results and the birth certificate deep under the heavy mahogany desk, hiding them in the dark shadows.

Only the forged property deeds remained visible on the expensive rug.

"He hates me, Denise!" I wailed, burying my face in my hands. "I was just looking for old photos! I just wanted to see if he kept anything from the nursery! I miss my baby!"

"Oh, Shay, honey," Denise cooed, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. "Terrence called me. He said you were having a terrible day today. He told me you were so depressed, and he just didn't know how to stop your crying anymore. So, he asked me to come."

I kept my face buried in my hands, forcing another loud sob, though my blood boiled with a lethal rage.

"I am so sorry I left you three years ago," Denise continued, playing the sweet, concerned friend flawlessly. "I wanted to start a family of my own. This is my son, Jiro."

She paused, letting out a dramatic, perfectly calculated sigh. "But my husband left me, Shay. I am all alone now. When Terrence called, I thought maybe a baby's laughter could help you heal. We used to be such good friends."

I slowly looked up at her through my fake tears.

"Why don't Jiro and I stay here for a few days?" Denise offered, a bold, calculating gleam in her eyes. "Just to help you. We can support each other, as friends."

My blood ran cold. But as I looked past her to my son, a sudden, brilliant realization hit me.

This was my golden opportunity. If they stayed, I wouldn't be separated from Jiro.

"Would you really do that for me?" I whispered brokenly. "Thank you, Denise. Thank you so much."

Denise smirked. The rest of the afternoon was a beautiful, agonizing torture.

Denise immediately made herself at home. She paraded through the mansion, ordering my maids around as if she were the lady of the house.

"Maria, make sure the guest suite is prepared," Denise commanded, waving her hand dismissively at our head maid. "And tell the chef to prepare pureed apples. It is Jiro's favorite."

I endured every single second of her arrogance. Because in exchange, I got to hold my son.

I sat on the living room floor with Jiro. I built tall towers out of wooden blocks just to hear his bright, innocent laughter when he knocked them down. I fed him slices of fresh fruit, my heart swelling with an overwhelming, undeniable love every time his small fingers brushed against mine.

I breathed in the sweet, clean scent of his dark hair. I memorized the curve of his cheeks, the exact shade of his eyes, the sound of his tiny, perfect breaths.

He was perfect. He was mine.

But the joy was laced with absolute agony.

"Look at you two," Denise chimed in, walking into the living room with a glass of my expensive wine. She smiled a wicked, knowing smile. "You are so good with him, Shay. It really is a tragedy you couldn't have your own."

"Come here, sweetie," Denise cooed, holding her arms out to Jiro. "Come to Mommy."

Jiro dropped his wooden block. He stood up on his unsteady toddler legs and waddled directly into Denise’s arms, burying his small face in her neck. She kissed his cheek, looking at me with triumphant, mocking eyes.

Mommy.

The word sliced through my chest like a jagged blade. I had to sit there and smile while my former nanny claimed my title. I forced my face to remain completely blank, burying the monster inside me deeper and deeper.

At seven o'clock, Terrence walked into the grand foyer, loosening his silk tie. He stopped dead in his tracks.

"What is going on here?" Terrence demanded, his voice tight with panic.

Denise stood up, walking over to him with a sweet, innocent smile. "I decided to stay for a few days, Terrence. Shay was feeling so lonely. We are just keeping her company."

I slowly stood up. I looked at my husband with dead, emotionless eyes.

"It's fine, Terrence," I said, my voice completely flat and agreeable. "I like having them here. It's nice."

Terrence blinked. The tension slowly drained from his broad shoulders. He looked at Denise.

They exchanged a secret, relieved look.

That night, the mansion was completely silent. Terrence was asleep in the master bedroom. Denise and Jiro were asleep in the guest suite.

I slipped out of my bed. I dropped to my knees in the pitch-black room. I reached my hand deep under the heavy mahogany desk, feeling along the edge of the expensive rug.

My fingers brushed against thick paper.

I pulled it out.

The DNA test. The birth certificate. The absolute, undeniable proof of their crimes.