Chapter 10
Adrenaline, sharp and electric, flooded Jessamine’s system. She was vastly outnumbered, surrounded by a wealthy syndicate masquerading as a family, but she possessed something none of them had: the primal, explosive ferocity of a mother protecting her young. As the first man reached out to grab her arm, Jessamine didn't retreat. Instead, she spun on her heel, her leg lashing out in a desperate, vicious kick. Her leather flat connected squarely with the side of the heavy metal patio chair, launching it directly into the shins of her attacker.
The man cursed in pain, stumbling forward as the metal tangled in his legs. Using the momentary distraction, Jessamine hiked Piers higher onto her hip, clutching the legal documents tightly, and sprinted in the only direction left open—toward the deep end of the swimming pool.
"Get her!" Marcelline shrieked, all pretense of elegance gone, her voice cracking with hysterical rage.
Jessamine ran along the slippery, wet tiles of the pool edge, her flats dangerously close to losing traction. The bright, azure water blurred beside her. The second man lunged toward her, his arms outstretched to tackle her into the water. Jessamine ducked hard, throwing her weight sideways. The man's hands grazed her silk blouse, tearing the fabric, but his momentum carried him too far. He slipped on the wet tile and plunged into the deep end with a massive, chaotic splash.
Jessamine didn't look back. She cleared the pool area and bolted toward the heavy wooden gate at the far end of the garden, the only exit not actively guarded. Her lungs burned, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Piers was crying softly, his face buried in her shoulder. Just ten more yards. Five yards.
She reached the wooden gate, slamming her shoulder into the timber. She reached for the heavy iron latch, her fingers frantically grappling with the metal lock. She twisted it, shoved hard, and the gate burst open, spilling her out onto the long, shaded gravel driveway that led to the street.
Freedom was right there. The street was just a hundred feet away.
But as Jessamine burst through the gate, she slammed violently into a solid, unmoving figure standing directly in her path. She stumbled back, gasping for air, clutching Piers tightly to keep from dropping him.
She looked up, the bright sunlight blinding her for a fraction of a second. As her eyes adjusted, the color drained entirely from her beautiful face. The legal documents slipped from her trembling fingers, scattering across the gravel.
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Standing there, blocking the only path to the street, dressed in a sharp, expensive suit with a calm, emotionless expression on his fair face, was her husband. The man who had vanished a year ago. The man who had sold their son.
"Hello, Jessamine," he said softly, stepping forward to block out the sun.
