Chapter 5

Garrett’s POV

A sickening, heavy thud echoed from the terrace above. My heart slammed against my ribs. I turned, my expensive leather shoes slipping slightly on the polished hardwood as I took the grand staircase two steps at a time.

"Noah!" I yelled, my mind racing with a sudden, suffocating dread.

I burst into the upstairs hallway and sprinted toward the open French doors of the balcony.

It wasn't Noah.

Lying motionless on the wet, unforgiving concrete of the lower patio was the other boy. Jackson. The dark-haired child Nadine had brought into my home just an hour ago.

He had Donna’s soft curls, but as a jagged flash of lightning illuminated his pale, broken face, I saw my own jawline. My own nose. My blood. That was my biological son with Donna—the child I had callously swapped in the hospital nursery and handed over to my mistress to raise, just so I could keep my true heir hidden in plain sight.

"No," I breathed, the word snatched away by the howling wind. "He wouldn't stop crying."

I spun around. My mother, Erika, stood near the edge of the balcony.

"Mom?" I choked out, stepping toward her. "What did you do?"

"I fixed the problem, Garrett," Erika stated. She looked down at the patio with absolute disgust. "He was screaming. He was throwing a tantrum, clinging to the railing. So, I helped him over."

"You pushed him?!" I screamed, the horror paralyzing my limbs. "Mom, he's just a little boy!"

"He is a worthless bastard!" Erika hissed, stepping into my personal space. "Did you forget the DNA test, Garrett? That boy is the product of your whore wife's filthy affair! He has none of the Graham blood in his veins! He is nothing to us!"

I stared at Jackson's small, still body, a sob building in my chest. "He... he's my..."

Smack.

Erika’s hand cracked across my face with brutal force. The heavy diamond on her ring bit into my cheek, stinging sharply in the freezing air.

"Pull yourself together, Garrett!" she commanded, grabbing the lapels of my tailored suit and shaking me violently. "Bury whatever weak, pathetic guilt you are feeling right now. I did this to protect our family. To protect you. And now, you are going to protect me."

I blinked, the stinging pain in my cheek grounding me, dragging me back from the edge of a breakdown.

"Donna did this," Erika whispered. "Donna went completely insane when you handed her the divorce papers. She stripped off her own clothes in a psychotic fugue state. She ran upstairs, saw the bastard child she tried to pass off as yours, and in a fit of psychotic rage... she pushed him."

I stared at my mother, the sheer audacity of the lie washing over me.

I looked down at Jackson one last time, officially severing the invisible tie of fatherhood.

I had to abandon him to save myself.

"She pushed him," I repeated, the lie tasting like ash and victory on my tongue. "My crazy wife tried to murder a child and ran away."

"Exactly," Erika said, smoothing her damp blonde hair. "Now, call the police. Make them believe you."

The flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers sliced through the torrential downpour, painting the walls of our grand foyer in violent, chaotic strokes.

I sat on the edge of the leather sofa, my head buried in my hands, playing the role of the shattered, devastated patriarch to absolute perfection.

"Mr. Graham?" A gruff, rain-soaked detective stood over me, a notepad in his hand. "I know this is incredibly difficult, but I need you to walk me through it one more time."

I looked up, forcing my eyes to widen, letting my breathing hitch in a manufactured sob. "It was my wife, Detective. Donna. She... she hasn't been right for a long time."

I reached into my pocket with trembling fingers and pulled out my phone.

I tapped the screen, bringing up the fabricated security footage.

"I confronted her tonight," I lied, my voice cracking perfectly. "I found this video. Proof that she was having an affair. Proof that she was unfaithful."

The detective took the phone, his eyes narrowing as he watched the grainy footage of Donna’s face laughing with a faceless man in a cheap motel hallway.

"When I told her I was filing for divorce, she snapped," I continued, burying my face in my hands again. "She started screaming, tearing off her own clothes. It was terrifying. She bolted upstairs."

I let out a choked, agonizing gasp. "Nadine had brought her little boy over. Donna... she saw him near the balcony. She just... she pushed him. And then she ran out into the woods."

The detective handed the phone back. "We have units sweeping the woods right now, Mr. Graham. With the storm and her state of undress, she won't get far. We will find her."

I lowered my head, hiding the dark, triumphant smirk that tugged at the corners of my mouth. I had won. The Graham legacy was secure. Donna was erased.

The detective patted my shoulder awkwardly. "Take a breath, Mr. Graham. Go check on your own son. We'll handle the rest."

"Thank you, Detective," I murmured.

I stood up. I walked past the uniformed officers as I climbed the grand staircase.

I reached the end of the hallway and placed my hand on the brass knob of Noah’s bedroom door.

I turned it slowly, pushing the door open, a soft, loving smile already forming on my lips.

"Noah, buddy? Daddy's here," I whispered into the darkness.

The room was freezing.

My smile vanished. I flicked on the light switch.

The small, racecar-shaped bed was empty, the blankets thrown hastily to the floor.

The heavy, floor-to-ceiling window at the far end of the room was thrown wide open, the violent wind and freezing rain whipping the blue curtains into a frenzy.

I ran to the window, my heart stopping dead in my chest.

"Noah!" I screamed into the black, unforgiving storm.