I'd once heard that children who die before their time become trapped in the cycle of reincarnation, never finding release. So I'd had a beautiful wooden box custom-made, carved with lotus blossoms, and arranged for a monk to chant sutras for forty-nine days.
I hoped he could have a next life. I hoped he'd find parents who would love him.
"Daddy."
A small, shrill voice cut through my thoughts. Cooper was staring at the box in my arms. His hand shot out to grab it. "I want that box!"
"Don't touch it!"
I slapped his hand away—hard—and clutched the box to my chest.
The sharp crack echoed through the corridor. Cooper froze for a split second, then burst into wailing sobs.
A flash of shock crossed Ivan's face, but he immediately hardened his expression. "What do you think you're doing!"
"He's just a child! Why are you stooping to his level—putting your hands on him!"
I clutched the box to my chest and glared at Ivan, my eyes burning. "Ivan Vance, I hate you. I hate you!"