Caleb glanced around, then pulled out a thin stack of papers. I need more proof you have the right. The marriage certificate is there, but the proxy signature for the family fund is still missing.
Walker isn’t a fool. Veronica gave a cold smile. Don’t worry, he’s busy playing the perfect father.
As for the rest, I’ll get it another way. Caleb folded the papers. No more than two weeks.
After that the plan will be harder. Thank you. Veronica touched his hand with a familiar gesture.
Keep it quiet for me. Samuel stood behind the trees, his heart pounding heavily. He had heard enough to understand where the blade was pointing.
It wasn’t just the shouting in the kitchen, not just the threats on the stairs. This was a step across another line. Caleb left through the side gate.
Veronica lingered a moment, adjusted her hair, then walked back into the house with a calm face. Samuel still didn’t move. He opened his phone, the black screen reflecting his own face.
Three tasks lined up in his mind, as straight as ruled lines. Protect the children, preserve the evidence, and call an old friend who knew the law. He went back inside, passing through the living room.
Emily was stacking wooden blocks for Michael, glancing now and then toward the kitchen. Her eyes flicked toward him, still carrying some caution, but there was also a small glimmer. Samuel paused for a second, laying his hand gently on his daughter’s shoulder.
You’re here with me, Emily nodded, her lips forming a faint word. Yes. Samuel kept walking, his hand gripping Sarah’s letter inside his jacket pocket.
His heartbeat surged not from fear, but from a late awakening turning into action. He knew what he would have to face, and he understood something else, chilling in its simplicity. She isn’t only mistreating my children, she is plotting for the inheritance too.
Samuel tightened his grip on the letter in his pocket, and walked straight toward the living room. He stopped beside the play rug, bent down to pick a wooden block that had rolled away, and placed it in Emily’s hand. His voice lowered to reassure her.
You stay here with Daddy. Emily gave a slight nod, her eyes darting toward the kitchen, as if to check whether anyone was listening. That night Samuel stayed in the living room longer than usual.
He sat beside them, opened a children’s book that Sarah used to read to Emily years ago, and read slowly, letting each word linger. His other hand tapped a steady rhythm on Michael’s back until the boy’s breathing became calm and even. Every time footsteps passed by, Emily stiffened, her little hand clutching at the hem of her dress, her gaze shifting to the window, as if searching for an escape.
Seeing this, Samuel whispered, It’s alright. Daddy is here. Veronica passed by once.
She smiled faintly, and asked as though in passing, It’s late. Let me take the children to their room. They have school tomorrow.
Samuel looked up, his tone deliberately calm. I’ll do it. Veronica shrugged and turned away, leaving behind a trace of perfume that could not mask the unease beneath her polished manner.
Mrs. Whitman came carrying a warm glass of milk. She placed it on the table by the chair, her eyes glancing at the door before meeting Samuel’s, as if to remind him not to let the children out of his sight. Samuel thanked her, urged Emily to take a few sips, then placed Michael in the portable crib, pulling it close beside his chair.
He finished the page of the story in a steady, low voice. When the clock struck late, Samuel carried Michael, and guided Emily toward the children’s bedroom. The door stood ajar, the room tidy but cold.
He straightened the blankets, laid the boy in the crib, pulled a small chair close for Emily, to sit beside the bed, and spoke slowly. Daddy is right here. Go to sleep.
Emily nodded, but before closing her eyes, she still glanced outside as if waiting for some sound. Samuel dimmed the hallway light, stood at the doorway a while longer, then returned to his study, deciding to move his chair closer to the door, so that with one glance, he could still see the faint light spilling from the children’s room. Near midnight, Samuel lifted his head from the stack of papers when he heard a faint metallic clink at the end of the hallway.
He rose quickly following the sound, his heartbeat racing before he could steady himself. Someone had turned off the hallway light, leaving the space blurred in shadow. Samuel flicked the switch, and the sudden brightness made him squint.
In front of the children’s room, Emily was sitting hunched on the floor, clutching Michael tightly, the baby hastily wrapped in a thin blanket. Her eyes were red. Her cheek pressed against her brother’s forehead to keep him warm.
The lock on the outside of the door clicked, just as it released, and Samuel understood at once. Who left you out here? Samuel asked, his voice hoarse with anger, though he managed to restrain it. She… she locked the room.
Emily whispered, each word catching in her throat as her arms tightened protectively around her brother. Samuel knelt, gathered them both, holding Michael firmly against his chest while lifting Emily up with his other arm. Come with Daddy.
He carried the children back to his room, pushed the door until it met the frame, and locked it softly, moving slowly so as not to startle them. Samuel laid Michael in the middle of the bed, propped soft pillows around him, and pulled the blanket to his chest. He slid a chair close for Emily beside the edge of the bed, then poured the rest of the warm milk into a small cup.
Drink a little before you sleep, you’re tired already. Emily clutched the cup with both hands, her lips pressed tight to hold back a sob. Her eyes fixed on her father’s mouth as if waiting for a clear promise.
Samuel sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on the blanket covering his daughter’s legs. He did not touch her skin for fear she might flinch, but he left the warmth of his hand there like an invisible thread connecting them. I’m here, tonight you’ll sleep in my room.
In the softened glow of the nightlamp, Emily looked up, her gaze lingering on the face of the man who had only appeared in brief flashes over the past eight months between work trips. Her voice trembled, breaking at the end of the sentence. Dad, are you going to abandon us like my stepmother said? Samuel froze, his breath caught in his chest.
Words, so natural before, now vanished. For a long moment he could only pull the little girl closer and hold her against him. His chin rested on the crown of her head, the familiar scent of milk and child’s sweat burning his eyes.
He did not know how to answer without sounding late, without sounding false. He only repeated the one thing he could be certain of. I’m here.
Emily gave the faintest nod, her small hand gripping the hem of his shirt like holding onto a piece of driftwood. Michael stirred, let out a faint murmur, and drifted back into sleep. Samuel stayed still, listening to the breaths of the two children blending together, his own heartbeat slowing and heavy, like a silent promise being signed again in the dark.
From the hallway came the sound of footsteps, stopping right outside the bedroom door. Samuel tensed instinctively, his arm tightening protectively around Emily’s shoulders. Through the crack in the door came Veronica’s voice, smooth as silk yet cold as thin steel.
I think… we need to talk, Samuel. Samuel gently squeezed Emily’s shoulder to reassure her, then set her down on the bed and pulled the blanket up for Michael. He stood, opened the door just enough for Veronica to see him.
The kids are asleep. Whatever it is, we’ll talk in the morning. Veronica smiled, stepped back, her voice still soft.
As you wish. The door closed. Samuel sat down in the chair, pulled out his phone, and dialed a familiar number.
Richard, come by my house tomorrow evening. There’s something in the portfolio we need to discuss. On the other end, the man answered briefly.
All right. Seven o’clock. Richard Coleman was a corporate attorney in his 40s, discreet and straightforward.
He had been with Samuel since his earliest deals, understood how Samuel thought, and could read details most people overlooked. He wasn’t only skilled with contracts, but also deeply knowledgeable about family trusts and asset protection, which was why Samuel believed Richard’s presence would be far more valuable than a polite dinner. The next evening, Veronica took charge of the kitchen.
She chose a white tablecloth, arranged red roses, and set gleaming silverware in place. When Richard arrived, Veronica came out to greet him with just the right smile, carrying the poise of a perfect hostess. Such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Coleman.
Please, come in. Richard shook Samuel’s hand, his gaze sweeping the room before stopping at the corner where Emily was holding Michael. He nodded to the children with a warm smile.
Dinner began with soup. Veronica was attentive to every gesture in front of the guest. She placed the tenderest piece of meat into Emily’s bowl, bent down to wipe a trace of milk from Michael’s lip, and spoke with honeyed sweetness.
Eat up, darling, so you’ll grow strong, Emily replied softly. Yes, ma’am. Then tried to lift a small spoonful…
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