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“Daddy's with me,” is Asher’s happy response on the other end of the line.
“Baby, pass the phone to your father.”
“Hey, Krissy!” Brandon sounds jovial and calm, as if he’s a model father. With Asher, he always pretends to be what he's not, but luckily my son doesn't suspect anything that's going on.
"What are you doing with Asher? What's Gayle? Where are you taking him?" I ask, frightened.
Brandon bursts out laughing. "Come on, honey. Gayle is on a flight back, and our son is safe and secure. I'm taking him home with me. You weren't planning on letting me know my son was back? That wasn't very decent of you."
“Don't do this,” I plead, feeling fear douse my happiness. “Give me my son back,now!”
“I remind you that he's mine too, my dear, even if you try to make it seem like he's not. Besides, I have partial custody too,” Brandon sounds calm, measured. This is his game, just like always.
“You don't have to do this.”
“An old friend will pick you up at the airport. I suggest you go with him and do as he says if you want to see Asher.” He falsely laughs at an observation from Asher.
Inside my chest, I feel my heart squeeze.
“When will you learn? You can't go behind my back. There's nothing you can do that I won't find out about sooner or later.”
“Brandon, please...” I plead.
“I'll see you soon, honey. Asher, say goodbye to your mother.”
“Bye, Mommy. See you later.”
Brandon laughs, “Yeah, see you later.”
The line disconnects, and I can't see the people around me. How much can one person endure?
I shut my eyes, closing out the world, and a tear spills down my cheeks from helplessness and grief. I need to call Ethan.
“Mrs. Prescott.” My eyes pop open and there's a tall, burly man in front of me. The kind of man without brains or compassion. He's clearly one of Brandon's guards, although I’ve never seen him before.
My phone starts ringing. “Hey, Ethan,” I whisper.
“Are you meeting Asher yet?” asks Ethan. He seems excited for me.
The guard steps closer, and I hold out a hand, stopping him.
“I...” I decide to pretend that everything is going well. “I'll call you back, okay? I'm at the airport, and everything is chaos.”
“Sure. I'll wait to hear from you.” Ethan seems to detect the hesitation in my tone of voice. “Be careful.”
I nod, and he hangs up the call. The guard moves forward, and I swallow my fear.
“Let's go, Mrs. Prescott.” The man guides me to my car and climbs into the passenger seat. “Drive.”
I obey, noticing a black car following close behind us.
“Where to?” I ask.
“Mr. Whitmore is waiting for you at The Vault.”
So that's what this is all about. I inhale and drive until I reach my destination.
The burly guard ushers me inside The Vault. It's quiet, and no one's around. A shiver runs down my spine.
