Chapter 3

Alice appeared with Arkin, one of the five year old twins, and pushed him into the room. "Freya, could you watch Arkin for me a little while? I need to take care of his sister and his twin, and it's hard managing both at once."

She didn't even wait for my answer. She grabbed Alaric's arm and hurried away with him.

Seriously?

I hadn't even agreed.

I looked down at Arkin, already staring around my room with a strange little smile. Within minutes he started touching everything, grabbing things off the shelves and tossing them on the floor, jumping on the sofa, screaming whenever I told him to stop.

I tried to keep my patience. "Arkin, it's late. Let's clean this up and get you to bed."

He glared at me. "Why should I listen to you? You're just an ugly poor maid!"

I took a slow breath. "Who taught you to talk to people like that?"

He wasn't scared at all. He stuck his tongue out, grabbed something off the table, and ran out of the room.

I followed him into the hallway. "Arkin, stop running, you're going to hurt yourself."

He ignored me and ran for the staircase.

Then he stopped and turned around.

In his little hand was my bracelet.

My grandfather had given it to me before I left home. It was one of the few things I'd kept hidden all these years, and I'd never taken it off until now.

My eyes widened. "Arkin, give that back."

He looked at the bracelet, then at me.

Before I could reach him, he yanked it apart.

It snapped free.

My heart dropped. "Arkin!"

He laughed, threw it on the floor, and ran down the hallway like it was a game.

I rushed after him and picked it up. Scratched. My fingers tightened around it.

That was my grandfather's last gift to me.

I swallowed the anger rising in my chest. "That's enough. Go back to your room."

Instead he ran to the top of the staircase and turned with a nasty little grin. "Let's see what Daddy thinks when you hurt me."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

He leaned backward toward the stairs.

My eyes widened. "Arkin, don't!"

He let his body fall backward on purpose.

I lunged forward and caught his arm before he could tumble down the steps, but instead of grabbing the railing, he clung to my hand and pulled me toward him with all his strength.

My foot slipped off the edge.

For one terrifying second, neither of us had anything to hold onto.

Then we lost our balance and fell down the staircase together.

I wrapped both arms around his small body on instinct, twisting myself beneath him so he'd land on me instead of the steps. My back slammed against the stairs as we tumbled down, and when we hit the bottom I crashed onto the floor with him still in my arms.

Pain exploded through my back and side. Something sharp cut into my skin. Blood ran down my arm.

For a few seconds I couldn't move.

Arkin started crying.

Then footsteps rushed toward us.

"Daddy!"

He scrambled up, crying hard, and pointed straight at me. "Daddy, this woman hurt me! She pushed me! She wanted me to die!"

Alice screamed the moment she saw him. "Ali, hurry! Save Arkin first! He's hurt, he's only five, he's our son, your own flesh and blood!"

Alaric's face went pale, his eyes moving between Arkin and me. I was still lying at the bottom of the staircase, covered in blood, barely able to move, while Arkin cried beside me.

For a moment he hesitated.

Then he rushed to Arkin. "Are you hurt? Let Daddy see."

Arkin wrapped his arms around him and cried harder.

I stayed on the floor, my head spinning, blood trickling down my forehead.

Alice followed him, giving me one last look. The worry on her face vanished for a brief second, replaced by a small, satisfied smile. She even spat on my face before hurrying after him.

I stared after them, finally understanding what his choice meant.

I wasn't surprised.

Hadn't he always told me that I was the most important person in his life? Apparently, that only mattered when Alice and his children weren't standing in front of him.

---

For two hours, I lay there alone, barely conscious, unable to move. Alaric had forgotten about me the moment he carried Arkin away. It was a maid who finally found me on the floor and called for help.

She was the one who stayed with me until I got to the hospital.

Two hours.

That's how long it took for anyone to remember I was still bleeding on that floor.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. The slightest movement sent pain through my forehead and arm. When I turned my head, Alaric was sitting beside me, brows drawn tight, eyes bloodshot, like he hadn't slept in hours.

The moment he saw I was awake, he leaned in. "Freya, you're awake. How do you feel? Does your head hurt? Your arm? Tell me and I'll call the doctor."

My throat was too dry to answer.

He picked up a cotton swab, dipped it in water, and touched it to my lips. His hands were as careful as always, and somehow that only made me colder.

He took my good hand and rubbed the back of it. "Freya, I'm sorry. Everything happened so fast, and I had to get Arkin out first. He's just a child. I thought I'd come back for you right after, I didn't realize you'd already lost too much strength."

His voice softened. "I never meant to leave you there. I swear it. You know I wouldn't hurt you on purpose."

I listened without a word.

I understood he wanted to save his son.

What I couldn't understand was how he'd forgotten me afterward.

I remembered every night he'd held me and whispered I was the most important person in his world.

How ridiculous that sounded now.

I closed my eyes. "I'm tired, Alaric. I want to sleep."

He pulled the blanket higher over me. "Okay. Rest. I'm not going anywhere."

...

Over the next few days, Alaric stayed by my bed almost constantly. He handled my medicine, brought me water, peeled fruit, even helped me bathe. The same careful man I'd known for years.

If this had happened before, I would've melted at the sight of him taking care of me like that.

Now, every time his hands touched me, all I could think of was that staircase— lying there bleeding while he ran to save Arkin and left me behind.

I couldn't forget that. I didn't know how.

And even when he stayed, he never stayed long. His phone would ring, always at the worst moment.

It was Alice.

Her voice would come through soft and helpless. Their four-month-old daughter wouldn't stop crying. One of the twins had a fever. She couldn't manage three children alone.

Every time, his expression changed. He'd glance at me, apologetic. "Freya, I need to go home for a bit. I'll be back soon, okay?"

Then he'd leave.

Watching the man I loved walk out of my hospital room to take care of another woman and her children something in me went numb.

The wound in my chest wasn't closing. It was getting deeper.

One afternoon, his phone rang again. He looked at the screen, and I already knew who it was.

He sighed, rubbed his forehead.

I looked at him and finally spoke.

"Alaric, just go."

He looked up. "What?"