After James left, Dad called. He said the helicopter could arrive ahead of schedule to take us home.

Beside me, Xavier turned over in his sleep, mumbling softly, “Papa… you promised you’d blow out the candles with me…”

In just two days, it would be his birthday. He’d been counting down for an entire year, saying every night that his dad would come home to celebrate with him.

I reached out and gently stroked his sleeping face, my eyes burning with tears. I decided then that we’d wait two more days before leaving. At least then, Xavier wouldn’t leave this place with regrets.

Alas, everything fell apart that afternoon when Hilary suddenly claimed that her sapphire brooch, which was worth a fortune, had gone missing. She accused Xavier of stealing it and even produced his toy car as “evidence.”

The family elders summoned us to the main hall.

A servant stood there, clutching the toy car, crying hysterically. “It was him! I saw him hanging around the door yesterday. And today, the brooch is gone!”

Xavier went pale with fear and clutched my hand tightly.

“Ma, I didn’t steal anything!”

“I threw that toy car away a year ago!” I said quickly. “Someone must’ve planted it on purpose. He didn’t steal the brooch, I swear! He’s innocent, Don Hill.”

Everyone turned to look at James, waiting for him to speak. However, he only frowned, avoiding my eyes as he said to the elders, “Rules are rules. Since there’s evidence, we must follow them.”

Immediately, the elders ordered the guards to bring out a whip.

One of the elders said sharply, “A child who steals at this age must be disciplined before he brings shame to the family.”

Two bodyguards stepped forward to drag Xavier away.

I threw myself over him, shielding him with my body. “You can’t hit him! He’s being framed! Don Hill, please!”

James turned his face away. He didn’t say a single word. In the end, the guards pried us apart.

The first lash came down without mercy. Xavier’s small body trembled in pain, but he didn’t cry. By the third lash, however, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He screamed, voice breaking as he cried out toward James, “Papa! Help me!”

The word “Papa” carried all his pain, fear, and heartbreak. The entire hall went silent.

I thought James would finally soften, but instead, he said coldly, “Your father is dead. Calling for him won’t help.”

Looking at Xavier’s back, covered in red welts, and hearing his muffled sobs, I finally understood. To James, power and position mattered more than his own child’s life. He was no longer the man who once promised to bake a birthday cake with his son. He was nothing but a stranger devoured by power and greed.

For the next two days, Xavier grew silent and barely spoke. I thought we’d just wait quietly for the helicopter to come, but on the morning of his birthday, the estate was suddenly decorated with lights and ribbons. The living room was filled with mountains of gifts, and in the center stood a giant, three-tier cake topped with a spinning carousel.

I froze. Could it be James’s surprise for our son?

My boy’s eyes lit up as he grabbed my hand and ran toward the cake, his voice trembling with excitement.

“Ma, look! Papa made me a birthday cake! He remembered!”

For the first time in days, there was joy in his eyes again.

I led him to the cake and said softly, “Make a wish, sweetheart.”

He nodded earnestly, put his hands together, and closed his eyes. “I wish Papa could come home every day.”

Before I could even smile, a sharp, mocking voice sliced through the air.

“What are you doing here?”

Hilary appeared, cradling a baby in her arms, a scornful expression on her face. Behind her stood James, his expression empty.

“Today is my son’s one-month celebration,” James said flatly. “Who gave you permission to touch this cake?”

My mind went blank. So all of this was for her child, not ours.

Xavier trembled in shock as he called out to James, “Father…”

Around us, the guests began to whisper.

“Did that boy… call Don Hill his father?”

“Isn’t his father dead? Unless…”

Suspicious eyes darted between James and Xavier.

James let out a low, humorless laugh, then stared down at Xavier. “Did you forget? Today is your father’s death anniversary.”

My whole body went cold. I couldn’t believe the man standing in front of me was the same James I once loved.

Then, he gave his order. “Take him to the cemetery out back. Make him kneel there and pay his respects. Without my command, he doesn’t get up.”

The cemetery behind the estate was cold and damp. Without a care, the bodyguards dragged us, shoving us in front of a headstone. Xavier’s little hand trembled in mine, but he didn’t make a sound.

I had thought James would show some mercy by letting us go after an hour or two. However, we were forced to kneel through the entire night before he finally sent someone to say we could stop.

By midnight, Xavier ran a fever. I held him to my chest and understood, with a pain that burned deeper than before, just how cruel James could be.

When we returned to the estate, the quiet was ripped apart by the heavy staccato of gunfire. The bodyguards who had accompanied us dropped like flies, and I instinctively curled around Xavier.

Through the gunshots, Hilary’s scream cut like a knife. She was dragged out of the main hall, cradling the newborn in her arms, by a group of men in black. They then shoved the distraught Hilary, her child, Xavier, and me into a waiting car.

Later, in a dark warehouse, Hilary and I were tied to separate chairs. My son lay in my arms, while Hilary held her baby.

Hilary spat at the leader of the kidnappers. “Do you know who I am?”

The leader kicked an iron drum beside her. The clang echoed like thunder.

“Shut up!” he barked.

He stepped up, pinched Xavier’s chin, and dialed James on his phone. Then, he put the call on speaker.

“Don Hill, I have your woman and child, as well as your brother’s widow and son.” He glanced at a length of fuse coiled on the floor and continued, “The bomb goes off in ten minutes. You don’t have much time. You can only save two.”

Hilary screamed. “James! Save me! Save our child!”

I saw Xavier open his eyes, but he didn’t cry. He only listened, small and still.

On the other end, James’s breathing was heavy. A long, hollow three seconds passed before he spoke, flat and final.

“I choose Hilary and the child.”

The kidnapper snorted with delight and hung up.

Hilary’s wails cut off instantly, replaced by an ugly, triumphant laugh. I lowered my head and pressed a kiss to Xavier’s fever-hot forehead. Everything felt like it ended in that single, cold breath.

The kidnappers untied Hilary. As she carried her baby past me, she paused and leaned in close, so only I could hear.

“Pia,” she whispered, “you lost. You were never my match.”

I simply ignored her.

After Hilary left, the leader came back to us. “Since Don Hill has chosen, you’re useless to us now.”

He then lit the fuse and left, the glowing red string slithering across the floor to us like a hungry snake.

Just as my heart dropped into a pit, gunshots and screams roared from outside. The warehouse doors were kicked open.

Men in black riot gear, with my family’s black hawk insignia stitched across their chests, stormed in. At their head was Dad’s most trusted underboss, Kane Lee.

He quickly made his way to me, cut the ropes at my wrists, and dropped to one knee. “Principessa, I’m sorry you were frightened. Don Gerald has ordered me to bring you and the young sir home.”

I clung to Xavier in my arms as Kane and my family shepherded us out of that living hell.

As the helicopter blades thudded overhead, I cast one last look at the rising smoke and thought, ‘James, from now on, we would never meet again.’

When James finally burst into the warehouse, all he found was fire and black smoke. The flames painted his face in angry orange, and his eyes reddened.

“Find out who did this,” he told his men, voice hoarse. “I want them to pay.”