Page 70 of This Reckless Home

“You got some fucking nerve showing up here,” he snarls, slurring and a wave of foul whisky scented breath flows over me. “Judge said⁠—”

Twisting around and ignoring his tirade, I find Steele behind me with the bag of cash. Giving him a tight smile, I unzip the top and pull out a stack of hundreds before turning back to face Mr Marshall, my heart thudding but my hands steady. “Here’s one thousand dollars if you let us inside just to talk.”

His eyes bug a little before narrowing. “You’ve got five minutes.”

He goes to grab the cash but I pull my hand back, raising my brow at him until he sighs and opens the door, shuffling back and letting us in.

“What you doing letting that bitch in?” Mrs. Marshall hisses from behind him, looking equally drunk as she sways on her feet, wearing only a grubby nightdress that looks like it’s seen better days. It takes great effort for me not to curl my lip, but I manage it somehow.

I glance around the living room, the door opens straight into it and my jaw ticks. It’s messy, filthy, and smells like old alcohol and stale food. There are empty glass bottles lying on the floor by a stained and marked sofa.

“Steele, could you please put the bag on the coffee table?” I ask, and he gives me a nod, doing as I request and setting the bag down.

Both Noah’s parents walk over, eyes going wide when they see the stacks of cash inside.

“Here's one million dollars. It's yours right now if you sign these adoption papers for Noah.” I don’t beat around the bush, wanting this over and done with so I can take my child home. Walking over, I take the papers off the top. “You agree to full parental rights termination and no contact unless Noah requests it when he's 18 or older.”

Mrs. Marshall looks from the papers in my hand to the bag and back again. “That’s… that’s a million dollars?” Her voice is breathless.

I nod. “In cash. Untraceable. Yours to do whatever you want with.”

Mr. Marshall’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “What do you want with our son so bad you’d pay that much?”

My body turns cold. “Do you care enough to turn down the offer?”

Silence.

Complete silence because we all know the answer to that and it’s what haunts me about these types of people. They would sell their children for much less and to people who would do unspeakable things to them.

Mr. Marshall licks his dry, cracked lips. “Where do we sign?”

I don’t smile. It’s a hollow victory in many ways. Pulling out a pen from my jacket, I hand it and the papers over, sticky tabs where they need to put their marks. I watch as they both sign their names. “Which bedroom is Noah’s?”

“Top left,” Mr. Marshall replies, already reaching for the cash and pulling a bundle out.

“Nox.” He gives a swift nod, then heads in that direction while we wait.

I hear the deep murmur of Nox’s voice before a door opens, then a gasp, and finally footsteps running. I turn to find Noah at the top of the stairs, his right eye swollen like he was punched and my hands clench into fists even as my heart thrashes in my chest.

His face crumples when he sees me, then he’s running down the stairs and crashes into my arms, sobbing. “D-do I get to come home, now?”

“Yes, Noah, darling. You’re coming home.” My throat is thick, voice wavering but I hold him tighter even as tears threaten to fall. “Nox, could you take him to the car, please?”

“Come on, kid,” Nox says gently, managing to untangle him and lead him gently back out the door we came through not fifteen minutes ago.

I watch them go, then turn back to Mr. and Mrs. Marshall.

They're already counting the money. They barely looked up when their son left.

Something frozen settles in my chest.

I step closer to Mr. Marshall, feeling Ant and Steele stiffen behind me. But this needs to be done. The point needs to be driven home for us all to remain safe. Noah’s dad is bigger than me, drunk, unpredictable. My heart races, but I keep my face blank. I learned how to do that from my father — how to wear power like a mask.

“Let me be very clear.” My voice is quiet. Controlled. “There is no proof I gave you that money. No paper trail, no witnesses, nothing to tie me to you in any way.”

His nostrils flare, and he tries to puff out his flabby chest.

“If you try to blackmail me, if you ever contact Noah, if you come looking for him—” I let the pause stretch. “I will make you disappear.”