Page 64 of Her Faithful Protector

He releases a disappointed sigh, then continues, “I held your hand during your chemo treatments. I urged you to persevere even though the outcome was bleak. And have I ever asked for anything back when I picked up the hospital bills? I even helped your father with his struggling business. I did everything I could to keep you alive and your family afloat, Ava.”

The memory assaults my mind. He did spend countless hours with me, offering support. He went out of the way tohelp my parents, too. My mother always said, ‘Willem was too kind.’ He was, perhaps, driven by the fact that he was practically an orphan after his mother left him and his father remarried. That was why his generosity ended up costing me my own freedom and happiness. It was all for himself, whether he realized it or not.

I could give him a lecture about abandonment, but I simply say, “You did it because you wanted me.”

“Of course I did. But may I remind you? You were dying, Ava! So, think about what was in it for me. I simply cared about you.”

“Willem, you helped me, yes. And I will forever be grateful. But if you genuinely cared about me, let us go.”

“I will do whatever it takes to reclaim my family!”

“We’re not your family,” I counter. I will not fall for his sorry plea this time.

“Quinton is my son.” His tone tightens.

“No, he isn’t!” My words may come across as harsh, but the fact that someone is a biological father holds no significance for me or Quinton. I refuse to accept that my son should be burdened with being an asshole’s prodigy. I will do everything in my power to protect him, and when the time comes, I will tell Quinton the truth.

“Ava, don’t resurrect what nearly destroyed you. You are nothing without me.”

“I am everything when I’m without you! So look in the mirror, pack your sorry ass, and never call me or try to see us again!”

At this moment, Jack is standing behind me. Quinton is already back in his stroller, and Jack angles it so he’s looking away and sheltered from the tension of our conversation.

He snatches the phone from my hand, his voice firm, “If you ever dare to come near her or intimidate her again, I willleisurely chop off your fingers, one by one. Then, I will cut off your ears and scoop out your eyeballs. But I will let your tongue remain intact because I want to hear you curse at me, and I want to relish the moment when your voice fades away.”

From the speaker, I hear Willem speaking over him, but Jack doesn’t back down. It’s more than just a clash of egos—it’s a clash of two men seeking to possess me for two different reasons.

Jack then delivers his punchline. “So, like my girlfriend said, pack up your sorry ass!”

He quickly ends the call, almost slamming the phone down, but then realizes that it’s mine. He hands it back to me.

I take a moment to compose myself as Jack steps away and begins pacing the room toward the shelf where the dumbbells are. I lift Quinton from the stroller, gently swaying him back and forth. He appears happy in his fresh diaper, expertly put on by Jack. The air around me is filled with the soft scent of baby powder. I can’t help but wonder if the tough guys on the opposite side of the gym can also detect the scent.

Soon, Jack comes back to me, asking if I’m okay.

I nod, placing Quinton back in his stroller and leaving him to play with his giraffe teether. Then, under my breath, I mutter, “That man had the nerve to call me like that.”

“Did he mention anything about the kidnapping?”

“No. Not surprising, really.”

“This has to end!” Jack declares with determination. I embrace him, agreeing with him. But how we’ll make it happen remains uncertain.

22

JACK

I wake up, startled by a buzzing sound next to my ear. As my eyes adjust to the brightness, I find myself clenching my teeth, my fingernails scraping against the fabric of the sheet.

Fuck!

Saved by the phone as the vibration of a new alert breaks through my rolling nightmare.

My nails tingle with an odd sensation as if I had been scraping against something rough, more than just the cotton sheet. I look toward Ava, her body softly rising and falling under the covers. I huff, grateful that she was spared from witnessing whatever I had been doing.

I slide my legs over the edge of the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements. The sheets hang onto my skin as I rise to a sitting position. Ava stirs slightly but thankfully doesn’t wake up.

Just like his mother, Quinton also remains asleep in his crib, his tiny chest barely visible under the blanket. I take a moment to watch him, marveling at his innocence and vowing to protect him from any harm for the rest of my life.

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