I'm going to burn this house down.
I head straight for the east wing and step into the security office. The man behind the desk stiffens when he sees me, shoulders going rigid like he was briefed on this earlier.
"Where is my son?"
He doesn't hesitate. "Hale has been moved to the first floor."
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
"A full-time nanny has been assigned," he continues, like he'sreading from a report someone handed him this morning. "Mr. Calder felt it would be better for the child's routine."
"Where is Ewan?"
He ignores me. "You've been under a lot of stress, Mrs. Calder. This will give you time to rest. It's for your own good."
What?
I stand there frozen—seconds, minutes, I don't even know. Then I hear myself thank him before turning to leave.
I don't know why I do it. Survival instinct, maybe. Showing emotion here is the same as bleeding out in front of predators.
I walk down the hallway, pressing my palm to my chest like I can hold the pain in.
Tears streak down my face before I can stop them.
He's taking my son from me, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
Hale'slaugh echoes down the hallway before I see him. I follow the sound, trying really hard not to break into a full sprint.
The door to a room I've never been inside stands open. Sunlight pours through tall windows, warming hardwood floors I didn't know existed. How did I not see this part of the house? Did Ewan hide it from me on purpose?
There are new toys scattered all over a brand-new rug. A low table is fully stocked with shiny art supplies. Several bookshelves are filled with all sorts of books—ones I know Hale will love.
I wish I had been part of this. But no, he has me running grocery errands even though we have a chef and a buyer.
Hale sits cross-legged on the floor, carefully stacking wooden blocks into a tower.
A smiling woman kneels beside him, helping. She has dark hair pulled back into a neat bun, and she seems to be wearing some sort of cream-colored uniform. She's young and pretty.
I just stand and watch.
The way she hands him pieces before he even asks. The way she praises him softly when he gets the angle right. The way he responds to her voice without looking up, like he's already used to it.
Then he leans into her side.
As if he's known her for weeks instead of hours.
The woman notices me then.
"Mrs. Calder," she says warmly. "How lovely. We were just building a tower, weren't we, Hale?" She glances down at him with such gentle affection it makes my stomach knot. Then she looks up at me again. "Mama needs to rest though, sweetheart. We're having a quiet afternoon."
Mama needs to rest.
As if motherhood is a shift you clock out of.
Hale looks up at me. His face lights up the way it always does. "Hi, Mamma."
My heart cracks clean down the middle. "Hi, baby."
