Chapter 7: The Price of Getting My Son Back
I stared at the photograph until the screen went dark.
Claire was lying in a hospital bed.
Her face was pale. Her eyes were closed. A thin tube ran beneath her nose, and a monitor stood beside her.
For eleven years, I had imagined what it would feel like to see her again.
I had imagined her smiling.
I had imagined her running toward me.
I had imagined apologizing for everything we had lost.
I had never imagined finding her unconscious while my mother held our son hostage.
“Ryan?””
Daniel's voice sounded distant.
I turned toward him.
“Where is Noah?””
“I don't know.””
“Then find out.””
“Ryan, listen. Eleanor has probably taken him to one of the properties your father owned.””
I grabbed my jacket.
“Which property?””
Daniel hesitated.
“There's an old estate outside town. Your father used it for private meetings.””
“Address.””
“Give me a minute.””
I looked toward Dr. Reed.
“Can you help Claire?””
He nodded.
“If she's at the facility I suspect, I can contact someone who still works there.””
“Then do it.””
I turned toward Melissa.
She was standing beside Emma, holding her shoulders.
“I need you to take the girls somewhere safe.””
Melissa nodded.
“I'll come with you.””
“No.””
“Ryan, please.””
I stared at her.
“You helped my mother take my children. You helped hide Claire. You lied to me for years.””
“I know.””
“You don't get to decide when you become part of this family again.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I understand.””
I looked at Emma.
She was watching me with frightened eyes.
“Daddy, are you leaving?””
I knelt in front of her.
“I have to get Noah.””
“Will you come back?””
I kissed her forehead.
“Always.””
Lily stepped closer.
“Can you bring Mommy Claire back too?””
My throat tightened.
“I'm going to try, sweetheart.””
Grace held my hand.
“Don't let Grandma hurt Noah.””
I looked into her eyes.
“I won't.””
Daniel returned with an address.
“It's the old Mitchell estate. About forty minutes north.””
I took the paper.
“Let's go.””
The estate stood behind a tall iron gate surrounded by trees.
I'd visited it once as a child.
My father had called it his private retreat.
The main house was enormous, with dark stone walls and windows that reflected the moonlight.
A single light burned on the second floor.
Daniel parked several hundred feet from the entrance.
“Something isn't right,” he whispered.
I looked toward the gate.
A security camera was pointed directly at us.
“She's expecting us.””
Daniel nodded.
“That's why we need to be careful.””
I reached for my phone.
A message arrived.
Come through the front door. No tricks.
Another message followed.
Your son is waiting.
I stared at the words.
Then I stepped out of the car.
Daniel grabbed my arm.
“Ryan, wait.””
“What?””
He handed me a small recording device.
“Your father used to record every important meeting in that house. If Eleanor is anything like him, she'll want a confession before she gives you Noah.””
I took it.
“Why didn't you tell me about this place before?””
“Because I thought the secrets were buried.””
I looked toward the house.
“Apparently, nobody in this family knows when to stop digging.””
We approached the entrance.
The front door opened before I knocked.
Arthur Collins stood inside.
“Mr. Mitchell.””
“Where's my son?””
“Mrs. Mitchell is waiting.””
He stepped aside.
I walked into the house.
The smell immediately brought back memories.
Old wood.
Leather furniture.
My father's expensive tobacco.
Everything looked exactly as it had when I was twelve.
Even the grandfather clock still stood beside the staircase.
Then I heard a familiar voice.
“Uncle Ryan!””
Noah came running from the hallway.
He threw himself into my arms.
I dropped to my knees and hugged him tightly.
“Hey, buddy.””
He was shaking.
“I told Grandma I wanted you.””
“I know.””
“She said you weren't my real uncle.””
I pulled back.
“Listen to me. Nobody gets to decide whether you're my family.””
He began crying.
“Are you taking me home?””
“Yes.””
A woman's voice interrupted.
“Not so fast.””
Eleanor stood at the top of the staircase.
She was holding a glass of wine.
Behind her stood a man I didn't recognize.
“Put the boy down, Ryan.””
I tightened my arms around Noah.
“No.””
She sighed.
“You always were stubborn.””
“You kidnapped my son.””
“I protected him.””
“You don't get to use that word anymore.””
Eleanor walked down the stairs.
“Your father spent decades building something extraordinary. He wasn't going to let a few emotional women destroy it.””
I stared at her.
“Which women?””
“Claire. Melissa. Your first wife was always difficult. She believed love was more important than legacy.””
“And what did you believe?””
“That the family must survive.””
I laughed.
“You hid children inside walls.””
“I kept them away from people who wanted to hurt them.””
“You were the one hurting them!””
Her face hardened.
“Your father made mistakes.””
“Your father?””
She looked away.
For the first time, I noticed something strange.
She had referred to Thomas as my father, but never as her husband.
“Did you love him?”” I asked.
Eleanor looked back at me.
“That isn't relevant.””
“It is to me.””
She walked closer.
“Your father and I had an arrangement. He needed a respectable family. I needed security. We gave each other what we wanted.””
“And Sophia?””
Her expression changed.
“Don't mention that girl.””
“She's your daughter.””
“She was a complication.””
I looked at Noah.
He was hiding his face against my shoulder.
I lowered my voice.
“Let him go.””
Eleanor raised her glass.
“There's one document you need to sign.””
Arthur opened his briefcase.
He removed a stack of papers.
“What is it?””
“A declaration confirming that Noah is not your biological child and that you have no legal claim to him.””
I stared at her.
“That's your condition?””
“Sign it, and Noah can return home.””
“And the girls?””
“Lily and Grace will be transferred into my care.””
“No.””
“Then perhaps we should discuss what happens to Claire.””
She held up her phone.
A live video appeared.
Claire was lying in the hospital bed.
A man stood beside her, adjusting something on the medical equipment.
“Your wife is very fragile,” Eleanor said.
“It would be unfortunate if her treatment were interrupted.””
I felt sick.
“You're threatening to kill her?””
“I'm explaining the consequences of making the wrong decision.””
I looked at Arthur.
“Are these documents legal?””
He avoided my eyes.
“Mr. Mitchell, I strongly advise you to cooperate.””
I looked down at the papers.
Then I noticed something.
The signature on the first page was mine.
But it wasn't my current signature.
It was copied from an old business contract.
They had prepared the documents before I even arrived.
I slowly looked up.
“You planned this.””
Eleanor smiled.
“Of course.””
I glanced at the security camera in the corner.
The tiny red light was blinking.
My recording device was working.
I turned toward Eleanor.
“Tell me something. Why are you so desperate to control the children?””
Her smile faded.
“Because they're worth more than you understand.””
“How much?””
She set down her glass.
“Your father left each child a trust worth twenty million dollars.””
I stared at her.
“Twenty million each?””
“Twenty-five, actually. The value increased after his investments matured.””
I understood.
This wasn't simply about family pride.
It was about money.
A fortune.
And three children who had no idea they were being treated as assets.
“Then why didn't you tell them?”” I asked.
“Because children don't understand money.””
I looked at Noah.
“He understands being frightened.””
Eleanor's expression hardened.
“Sign the papers.””
I slowly placed Noah on the floor.
He grabbed my hand.
I squeezed it gently.
Then I picked up the pen.
Arthur exhaled.
Eleanor smiled.
I signed the first page.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Finally, I placed the pen down.
“There.””
Eleanor extended her hand.
“Give me the documents.””
I handed them over.
She examined the signatures.
Then she smiled.
“Good boy.””
I felt something inside me turn to ice.
“Now let Noah go.””
She nodded toward Arthur.
He stepped forward.
But before he could reach the child, a voice came from the staircase.
“Eleanor, you're making the same mistake again.””
Everyone turned.
A woman stood at the top.
She wore a blue sweater.
Long black hair fell over her shoulders.
It was Sophia.
My half-sister.
She held a thick folder in one hand.
And a gun in the other.
“Put the papers down,” she said.
Eleanor's face turned white.
“Sophia?””
Sophia looked at me.
“Ryan, take Noah.””
May you like
Then she looked at our mother.
“It's time everyone learned what happened to the fourth child.””
