He buckled my seatbelt with practiced ease. The scent from the car diffuser and the music playing were both exactly to my taste.

If I could ignore the mother and son sitting in the backseat, the moment would've been perfect—so perfect it almost didn't feel real.

"We're taking Dylan to check out the school today," he said. "If you'd like, you could spend some time with them."

"No. I've got class," I replied.

The moment we pulled up, I stepped out and walked away, not daring to linger. A second too long, and I knew the tears welling in my eyes would spill over.

But Zia wasn't about to let me go that easily. She brought Dylan into my class, sitting quietly in the back while I lectured.

Later, without a word, she dropped him off in my lab and vanished.

Dylan tore through the lab like a storm. Equipment knocked over, and pages of my painstakingly written research notes were ripped to shreds.

I grabbed his arm. "Apologize."

I didn't care to argue with a child, but I needed, at the very least, a simple apology.

He snorted. "Why should I? My mom said all your final research results will be hers anyway. As long as she cries, Dad gives us everything that is yours. I just broke my own stuff. Why should I say sorry?"

A sharp pain tightened in my chest. I struggled to breathe.

But it wasn't over. He pulled out a pill from who-knows-where, trying to pop it into his mouth.

I knew what it was.

Without thinking, I slapped the pill from his hand, sending it skittering across the floor.

"You can't just eat random things! Are you trying to die?!"

He dropped to the floor, bawling, a bright red handprint blooming across his cheek.

But that was nothing compared to what could've happened if he'd swallowed it.

Just as I was bending down to pick him up, trying to soothe him, Zia burst through the door and shoved me to the ground.

"How could you hit Dylan while I was gone?" she screamed. "I told you I had something urgent to take care of and asked you to watch him for just a while. I never thought you'd even lash out at a child."

Stunned, I looked at her—then at Zeke, who had followed her in.

"He was about to swallow a pill," I explained, breathless. "It was an emergency. If I hadn't slapped it away, he would've—"

"No!" Dylan interrupted. "Mommy told me not to eat random stuff. But bad lady tried to make me take it. She hit me when I wouldn't."

I stared at him in disbelief. Then I looked at Zeke.

I shook my head slowly.

He knew me better than anyone. I was a Christian. How could I possibly try to poison a child?

He bent down and picked the pill off the floor. "You're saying Dylan tried to eat this on his own?"

I nodded.

I thought he believed me.

But a second later, his palm slammed hard across my face.

The hope I had—the last remnants of dignity—shattered at my feet.

"This is one of our joint lab's experimental drugs," he said coldly. "We keep it locked in the freezer. If you hadn't opened it, how could Dylan have gotten his hands on it?"

My mouth went dry. The bitterness in my throat made it impossible to speak.

Meanwhile, Zia clung to Dylan, her voice rising in outrage as she threatened to report me to the police.

"Zeke, we were just discussing making her Dylan's godmother. And now look at what she's done! He's just a child. How could he lie? How could I ever let someone like her be Dylan's godmother? I have to protect my son!"

Zeke shoved the signed divorce papers into my hand but left a sliver of hope. "Apologize properly to them. Once things settle down, maybe I'll consider getting back together."

I gave a hollow laugh and carefully tucked the papers into my bag.

"No need," I said. "I never planned on starting over."