Chapter 3
The ascent up the wide, carpeted staircase felt like walking through a nightmare. The bright video colors of the estate's interior, usually a symbol of her family's wealth, now felt harsh and exposing. The natural, cinematic light streamed through the second-story windows, casting long, sharp shadows across the hallway. Emily’s fair, rosy skin was pale with anxiety as she dragged her suitcase behind her.
"Ethan?" Emily called out, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Ethan, mommy is home!"
There was no answer.
She reached the top landing and strode purposefully toward the heavy oak door at the end of the hall. It was Ethan’s bedroom. She reached out, her fingers trembling slightly, and pushed the door open.
The breath was violently knocked from her lungs.
Ethan’s bed, his colorful toys, his messy drawings taped to the walls, and his clothes were completely gone. The room had been entirely gutted and transformed into a sprawling, outrageously expensive nursery. The bright, cinematic lighting illuminated a pristine white crib, towering stacks of expensive baby gifts, enormous stuffed animals, and perfectly stacked decorative storage boxes. Resting near the window, wrapped safely in a soft blue blanket, slept Baby Lucas, Natalie's eight-month-old son.
"What is this?" Emily whispered, her eyes wide with shock and rising fury.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs behind her. Ryan had followed her up. Before Emily could even turn around to confront him, Ryan violently grabbed her heavy travel suitcase and hurled it directly at her.
The heavy luggage slammed brutally into Emily’s chest. The impact forced the air from her lungs, and she staggered backward, her heels catching on the carpet. She collided hard against the wooden doorframe, her tailored suit absorbing the brunt of the strike.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Emily gasped, clutching her chest, her eyes blazing with an apocalyptic rage.
Ryan stood in the hallway, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive button-down shirt. A cold, remorseless smirk twisted his fair, rosy features. He looked at the luxurious nursery, then back at his wife.
“Ethan has to give up this room for my baby who’s about to be born,” Ryan said coldly, his American accent devoid of any human empathy.
"What are you talking about?" Emily demanded, her voice shaking with rage. "There is already a baby in there! And even if she is pregnant again, this house has fifteen bedrooms! Why would you destroy my son's room?"
May you like
"To teach him his place," Ryan replied smoothly. "He is weak, Emily. Just like you. He cries for his mother every night. I needed to break that habit. I needed to show him that the strong inherit the earth, and the weak are cast out into the cold."
"Where is he, Ryan?" Emily snarled, pushing herself off the doorframe, her hands balling into fists. "Tell me right now."
