(Mara's POV)
I step back into the small room after the afternoon summons, legs unsteady, mouth still tasting him. The space has been cleaned while I was gone, fresh sheets, wardrobe neatly arranged, the used slips and towels replaced with new ones.
I step into the shower to clean up and rest like he ordered. I spent minutes in the shower trying to wash off the guilt and shame I felt as a mother. I'm supposed to be doing this for Liam. Not craving the man who owns me. Not getting wet when he calls me "bitch." Not aching for the next low groan from his throat.
This is for Liam.
The words used to feel like armor. Now they feel like a chain I wrapped around my own neck.
I walk to the nightstand on unsteady legs. My phone's battery is still at 22%. I opened my phone to three unread messages from Nora.
The first, sent an hour ago:
"He keeps asking when Mommy's coming."
The second:
"Fever spiked again this afternoon. They're working to stabilize him. Oxygen back up."
The third, minutes old:
"He's sleeping now but restless. Dr. Vargas says the new protocol is helping, but he needs calm. Call when you can."
My knees buckle. I sank to the carpet, phone clutched to my chest.
I can't do this anymore.
Not the kneeling or the slow, inevitable surrender that's already started to feel good. My body is betraying me faster than my mind can fight it. If I stay here another night, when he said he'll take the rest of me, I doubt I would recognize the woman who walks out the other side.
I need to see him, hold him, smell his hair and remind myself I'm still his mother. Even if it costs everything.
I wipe my face with the back of my hand, stand, and start looking. I stare at the locked door, chest tight, heart slamming against ribs that feel too small.
The room is small with no windows or vents big enough to crawl through. The door is steel, keypad only. I already tried the handle yesterday, it's solid and unyielding.
I pace while thinking. The staff woman comes twice a day breakfast and dinner. She never locks the inner door when she's inside, only when she leaves. She's quick, eyes down, trained to be invisible.
If I time it right…
I chose the plainest slip, a knee-length black silk with no lace. Something I can move in. I leave my hair loose to hide my face if I need to run.
Hours crawl but my phone says 4:12 p.m. when the keypad beeps again.
I lie on the bed, back to the door, breathing slow and even. Pretending sleep.
The woman enters with soft footsteps, tray clinking. She sets it on the table, pauses.
"Ms. Reed? Dinner."
I don't move.
She hesitates a bit longer this time. Then she turns to leave.
I spring.
I'm on my feet in one motion, crossing the room in three steps. I grab her wrist just as she reaches the door.
"Please," I whisper, voice cracking. "Just this once, I need to see my son. I won't run. I swear on his life."
Her eyes widened with fear, pity, conflict. She's young, maybe twenty-five.
"I can't," she breathes. "Mr. Kane…"
I don't let her finish. I shove past, shoulder the door open, and bolt into the hallway.
Bare feet slap against the marble floor. The corridor is long, mirrored, and endless. I sprint toward the main elevator, my heart in my throat, lungs burning. I slam the call button. Doors slide open instantly.
I step inside and hit the lobby. The doors close.
Halfway down, the elevator jerks to a stop on floor 47.
Panic spikes. Ahh why now, why was he even staying that up?
A speaker crackles.
"Going somewhere, Mara?"
Sebastian's voice, calm, amused, close enough to feel like he's in the lift with me.
I jam the emergency stop. The elevator shudders, halts. I pry at the doors, fingers bleeding on the metal seam until they part enough for me to squeeze through.
I run down the cold concrete service stairwell, the floors blurring, legs screaming. 40… 35… 30. My breath is ragged, sobs breaking free.
I hit the ground level service exit and pushed through into a loading dock. Humid Manhattan air hits my face like a slap. Horns, sirens and real life.
I run barefoot across asphalt, dodging delivery trucks, until I reach the street. A yellow cab idles at the curb. I throw myself inside.
"Memorial Sloan Kettering. Pediatric wing. Please hurry."
The driver glances at me, nods and pulls away.
I press my forehead to the window, watching the city streak past. My phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
"You have one hour. Then you come back or Liam's treatment ends"
Attached with a photo of Liam sleeping with wires on his face and his stuffed Spider-Man clutched in his fist. Taken minutes ago.
My blood turns to ice.
The cab weaves through traffic. I count the minutes.
I pay with the emergency cash I had in my clutch and run inside.
I push through the door.
Liam is asleep, his skin red and looking pale.
I drop to my knees, pull him into my arms. Careful of lines, careful of the bruises. He smells like hospital shampoo and crayons.
"Hey, baby," I whisper, voice breaking. "Keep fighting for mummy."
He stirs, eyes fluttering open. "Mommy?"
"I'm here," I choke. "I'm right here."
Nora stands in the doorway, eyes wide, tears shining. She doesn't ask questions. Just nod once.
I hold Liam until my arms ache. I kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his small hands. I tell him I love him. I tell him I'm so proud. I tell him Mommy has to go back soon, but she'll be back again.
He doesn't understand why I'm crying.
The phone buzzes again. Same unknown number.
"Time's up."
I kiss Liam one more time then stand.
"He'll be fine" Nora hugs me. "You're doing what you have to," she whispers. "No shame."
I nod, throat too tight to speak.
I walk out of the suite, out of the hospital, barefoot into the night.
A black Maybach idles at the curb. The driver opens the rear door without a word.
I slide inside knowing it's Sebastians.
The car pulls away.
I stare out the window at the glittering city, tasting salt on my lips.
How long do I have to do this?
I have to battle the pain of not seeing him but I still have to convince myself that…
This is for Liam.
And tonight, when he takes the rest of me, I'm not sure who I'll be when it's over.