I went to him, crouched down and hugged him tightly.
The child of the woman I had despised for ten years… the one I believed was my enemy’s son… it turned out he wasn’t. He was my long-lost treasure—my own son, taken from me, tormented and poisoned for a decade.
“Arson…” My voice choked. “I’m sorry… Mom is late.”
He froze, his small body stiff in my arms.
After a long moment, he reached out a tiny hand and gently patted my back — as if comforting a crying child.
“Millie, don’t cry. Mom says crying makes you not pretty.”
I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer; they poured out.
Emily, thank you. Thank you for protecting him for ten years. Now it was my turn to protect him. I would not let anyone who hurt him go unpunished.
