Chapter 2 - The Pocket Drive
The tiny piece of plastic felt absurdly heavy in my hand. Around us, the luxury hotel hallway buzzed with the muted symphony of a high-society wedding: the distant murmur of string quartet warmups, the rich scent of imported white roses drifting from the ballroom, and the polite laughter of guests finding their seats.
“Noah,” I whispered, kneeling until my eyes were level with his. My throat felt constricted, as though I had swallowed glass. “Where is Mommy right now?”
The boy blinked, his innocent blue eyes mirroring my own grief and fear. “She on the big bed, Grandpa. In her house. She wouldn’t wake up when I tickled her nose. She told me to find you. She said Rebecca was bad.”
Every instinct I had developed over decades in business screamed at me to investigate, but my paternal panic was deafening. Emily lived just fifteen minutes away in her suburban townhouse. If she was incapacitated—if what Noah implied was true—every second counted.
“Arthur! Darling, what are you doing out here? The guests are all seated!”
Rebecca’s voice cut through the corridor like a silver bell. I jerked upright, slipping the flash drive into my inner jacket pocket just as she rounded the corner. She looked breathtaking in her custom Vera Wang gown, her hair swept up into an immaculate chignon, a radiant smile gracing her lips. But as her gaze flicked to Noah, a micro-expression crossed her face—a split-second tightening of her jaw, a flash of pure ice in her eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by affectionate warmth.
“We’re having a slight wardrobe crisis with the best man,” I managed, forcing my voice to remain steady. The sheer hypocrisy of the lie made my stomach churn. “Noah stepped on his shoelace.”
Rebecca knelt beside Noah, her smile dripping with sweet condescension. “Oh, sweetie, let Auntie—soon to be Grandma—fix that for you. We can’t have our ring bearer looking messy on Grandpa’s big day, can we?”
She reached for Noah’s foot, but the boy violently jerked back, burying his face against my trouser leg. “No! Don’t touch me!”
Rebecca’s hands hovered in the air. For a fleeting second, her mask slipped again, revealing a cold, sharp impatience. “He’s just overwhelmed,” she said smoothly, looking up at me with wide, sympathetic eyes. “Weddings are so chaotic for children. Arthur, go finish adjusting your tie. I’ll take Noah down to the coordinator to get him settled.”
“No,” I said, my tone flat and unyielding. The word hung in the air, heavier than intended.
Rebecca paused, her smile faltering slightly. “Arthur?”
“Noah stays with me,” I said, looking straight into her eyes. For the first time in our two-year relationship, I didn't look away. I saw a flicker of genuine panic in her pupils before she masked it behind a playful pout.
“Whatever you say, groom-zilla,” she laughed nervously. “Just don't keep me waiting at the altar too long. I’ve waited five years for this.”
She turned and walked back toward the bridal suite, her hips swaying gracefully. I watched her go, my blood running cold. Five years. The exact amount of time since my late wife passed away. Rebecca had entered my life precisely one year after the tragedy, slowly weaving herself into my business, my home, and my heart.
May you like
If Mommy sleeps too long.
I grabbed Noah’s hand, pulled out my phone, and dialed my trusted driver, Marcus. “Bring the town car around to the side exit immediately. We’re leaving.”
