Ex-Fiance's Mistake My Son Chapter 2

"Enough!"

Carter’s voice cracked like a whip, echoing through the terminal.

"Maddie, I get it. You're pissed that Brie and I took off to see the world and left you with the kid. But she is his mother. Give him to her!"

Before I could react, Carter shoved his shoulder hard against mine. The impact threw me off balance. In that split second, he reached down and ripped Noah out of my grip.

"No!" I screamed.

Noah thrashed wildly in Carter's arms, his small face turning a mottled red. "Bad man! Let me go! Mommy!"

Carter ignored him entirely, shoving the flailing child into Brianna’s waiting arms. Brianna locked her arms around Noah. Her long, sharp nails dug directly into the soft, bare skin of Noah's forearms, leaving angry red scratches in their wake. She didn't seem to care that the child was hyperventilating. She just kept squeezing him.

"Baby, it's Mommy. It's Mommy."

My chest seized. I watched my son sobbing, twisting in terror, but Carter stepped directly in front of me, a physical wall between me and my child.

He leaned in, his cologne thick and suffocating, his tone suddenly dropping into a repulsive, arrogant purr. "Come on, Maddie. Tell the truth. Haven't you missed me?"

Missed him? I wanted him dead.

"Get out of my way right now, or I'm calling airport security!" I yelled, my hand diving into my purse for my phone.

Just then, Noah stopped thrashing. He went perfectly still, dipped his chin, and clamped his teeth down hard onto Brianna’s wrist.

Brianna shrieked, her grip faltering. Noah dropped to the linoleum floor and shot back to me like a bullet. Instead of hiding behind me, my brave, tiny six-year-old threw his arms out wide, standing firmly between me and Carter.

"You're a bad man! Don't you bully my mommy!" Noah yelled, his voice shaking but fierce.

Brianna was clutching her wrist, tears streaming down her face—real ones this time. "Carter!" she wailed. "I know Maddie hates me for taking you away. But the baby is innocent! She must have spent the last six years teaching him to hate us, otherwise, why would he act like this?"

That was the match in the powder barrel.

Carter’s eyes darkened with explosive rage. He lunged forward, grabbed Noah by the collar of his silk jacket, and hoisted him off the ground.

"You little brat!" Carter roared. "You dare lay hands on your own mother? I’m going to teach you a lesson right now!"

Noah was suspended in mid-air, his face draining of color. His little legs kicked empty air, and a high, breathless wail tore from his throat.

My blood ran cold. The silk collar was digging into Noah's throat. "Carter! Put him down! Put him down right now, we can talk!" I pleaded, pure panic stripping away my pride.

A crowd was forming, the murmur of strangers growing louder, phones starting to lift. But I couldn't hear the crowd. My entire universe was reduced to the straining seams of my son's collar and the lack of oxygen in his face.

Brianna suddenly dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around my legs, anchoring me in place.

"Maddie, hit me, curse at me, do whatever you want!" she sobbed loudly, playing to the gallery of onlookers. "But how could you ruin my baby? How could you teach him to hate his own father? Carter has thought about you and this boy every single day..."

Carter glared at me over Noah's struggling body, his expression a mask of self-righteous fury. "When I left him with you, I trusted you to be a decent person, Maddie. But to poison him against his own flesh and blood? You're sick. Now that we're back, he’s coming with us. You're done."

The irony was suffocating. He had abandoned a dying child without a second glance. If Harrison hadn't stepped in, I would have been a societal laughingstock, tied to a sick baby that wasn't mine. And the actual baby they had left behind? The one they were supposedly so desperate to reclaim? They hadn't even bothered to check if he was alive.

But Carter had my son. I had to play the game. I had to defuse the bomb.

I forced my hands to unball from fists, raising them in a gesture of surrender. "Carter. Please. Just put the boy down, and we will get in the car and talk."