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The bedroom is impressive. The room consists of three different spaces and has an elevator going up to the second floor.
A woman stands inside. I recognize the maid’s uniform. She looks at me in surprise.
“Where is my son?” I ask her.
“Sleeping in the upstairs bedroom, Mrs. Prescott.”
I nod and rush upstairs, feeling my heart skip a beat. The hallway is impressively long, but a half-closed door with a small light on reveals to me the location of my child.
Asher is sound asleep with the small nightlight next to him. One of his little hands dangles off the bed.
My eyes fill with tears as soon as I see him. I reach out to him, take his hand, and kiss it gently.
Slowly, his eyes open. “Mommy?”
“Hi, baby.” I greet him with a smile.
I move closer, so as not to interrupt his sleep, and kiss him on the forehead, stroking his hair.
“I missed you, Mommy. Did you come to take me home?” He yawns.
“Soon. I missed you too. I promise we'll never be apart again,” I wipe away my tears and give my son a smile. “Did you have a good time with Daddy?”
“We had an amazing time.”
I tense at the sound of Brandon's voice from behind me.
I turn and watch as he enters the room. His jacket is off, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck.
“Asher has been excellent in helping Daddy with his campaign. Haven't you?”
Asher nods and looks at his father reluctantly. Ever since we parted ways, my son has been nervous in his father's company because he'll always remember something he never should have seen.
The very same reason that I decided to separate from Brandon.
Forcing a smile, I stand up, and Brandon places his hands on my shoulders. “Mommy and I are going to talk, son. Get some rest. We'll see you in the morning.”
Asher looks at me with a bit of anxiety in his eyes but lets me go. Brandon, on the other hand, does not.
“Rest, baby. I love you,” I say, leaning down to kiss his forehead again.
“That was bold of you.” Brandon leads me into his private study and closes the door behind us.
“Let's get this over with.”
“Which fuckin' part are we talking about?” he asks, walking toward the liquor cabinet. “The part where you filed for divorce? Or about the part where you sicced your parents on me and denied me alimony?
He pours a drink and downs it in a single swallow. “You're so fuckin' selfish. This is all your fault. And now my career…”
He pours another drink, and I take several steps back. Brandon is nasty sober, and he’s vile drunk.
“Just let us go.”
He bursts out laughing. “It's you who ruins everything, Krissy. You’re the one who broke up this family. The one who got herself a lover who's trying to bring me down... What a bad joke on your part, by the way. To think that good-for-nothing could set me up.”
My hands clench into fists. My ex-husband advances toward me, smiling. His hand settles against my chin. I force down the rising acid churning in my stomach.
“Tell me what you want to set him free,” I state, knowing that Brandon's words confirm my fears. Ethan has fallen into Dexter and Brandon's trap.
