Page 18 of Broken Destiny

“You know the rules,” I said.

He squirmed and tried to shield himself, his laughter filling the room. “Okay, okay!” he gasped. “I’m going!”

Emma wrapped her small arms around my leg, looking up at me with wide, pleading eyes. “Mama, no trouble Lucas.”

Her innocent defence of her brother melted my heart.

Carrying Emma up the stairs, I took her into her room and changed her into her pyjamas, smoothing her hair gently as she yawned. Then I walked into Lucas’s room with her still in my arms and sat down on his bed.

Pulling the familiar book from the nightstand, I opened it and began reading aloud fromThe Wonderful Things You Will BebyEmily Winfield Martin.

Within minutes, both children drifted off to sleep.

I leaned forward and kissed Lucas gently on the forehead before switching on the night light beside his bed. Then I lifted Emma carefully and carried her into her room, placing her beneath the covers.

Kissing her cheek, I whispered, “Goodnight, my angel. Sleep well.”

Standing there for a moment, I watched her rest, my heart swelling with love and fierce protectiveness.

My children were my world.

My greatest responsibility.

And my greatest strength.

Yet beneath that love, I was aware of the danger that circled just beyond my reach.

The following month,in March, I noticed the black car following me on several occasions, keeping its distance. By then, I no longer believed the driver was simply having an affair with one of my neighbours. I had never seen anyone enter or exit the vehicle. It remained an anonymous presence.

A darker possibility began to form in my mind.

Could it be Caleb’s mother?

Caleb didn’t know about Emma.

But his mother did.

Was she trying to take Emma away from me?

Eleanor Evans had influence, power, and connections strong enough to make problems disappear—or appear—without leaving a trace. I had seen firsthand what she was capable of. She had ensured that no one discovered the truth about the kidnapping of her grandchildren. A woman who could orchestrate something like that would have no hesitation pulling another stunt if it suited her interests.

And that sent a chill through me.

Because if she truly was behind this… then the danger was far greater than I had imagined.

One afternoon, deciding to take matters into my own hands, I dressed in jeans and running shoes, tension pulsing beneath my skin. I walked to the closet and pulled out the box I had hidden deep inside, tucked behind old sweaters and winter blankets—out of sight, yet never out of mind.

The box carried memories I would rather forget—memories of fear, survival, and the lessons I had been forced to learn the hard way.

Slowly, I opened it.

Reaching inside, I took out the gun and checked the magazine with practiced precision before slipping it into the back waistband of my jeans beneath my sweater. The metal felt cold and heavy against my skin. I had bought it as protection against Jeremy, yet I had never needed to use it. Even so, keeping it close had always given me a sense of control.

“I’m going to the mall,” I called out to Geeta. “Do you need anything?”

“No, Didi. Oh… actually, just milk and bread from the grocery store, please.”

“Alright,” I replied.