THE PRICE OF HER TEARS

THE PRICE OF HER TEARS:6

Episode 6: Don’t Take My Son

Florence’s pulse hammered in her ears as she rushed out of the café, one hand gripping her handbag so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The brown envelope containing Cynthia’s evidence was still inside, but it no longer mattered. Her mind had locked onto one terrifying thought.

Divine.

She raised her hand and flagged down a taxi that was passing slowly along the road.

“Driver, please,” she said breathlessly as the car stopped. “Take me to Harmony Street. It’s urgent.”

The elderly man behind the wheel studied her face for a moment, clearly noticing the fear in her expression, then unlocked the door.

“What happened, madam?”

“My son,” Florence said, her voice breaking. “Please, just drive.”

The taxi pulled into traffic, weaving through the afternoon congestion while Florence kept dialing Angela’s number with trembling fingers. Each call rang out unanswered. She tried again. And again. Still nothing.

Her chest tightened with every failed attempt.

“Dear God,” she whispered, staring out the window as the city blurred past. “Please protect my children. Please don’t let anything happen to Divine.”

The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his tone gentle.

“Try not to panic. You’ll get there in time.”

Florence wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that whatever was happening at home could still be stopped. But Gilbert’s words from the café kept replaying in her mind.

This isn’t over.

She knew her husband well enough to understand that he did not make threats lightly. When Gilbert was angry, he became calculated, cold, and dangerous in ways that were often more frightening than open rage.

Twenty minutes later, the taxi turned into their street and stopped in front of the compound. Before the vehicle had fully come to rest, Florence pushed the door open and hurried out, nearly stumbling as she ran toward the gate.

It was wide open.

A small crowd had gathered outside the compound, neighbors standing in clusters and speaking in low, uneasy voices. The sight made Florence’s stomach drop. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

She rushed inside and entered the living room.

The scene before her was chaotic. A chair had been knocked over. A flower vase lay shattered on the floor, water spreading across the tiles. Angela stood near the wall, crying quietly while Tracy held her by the shoulders, trying to calm her.

“Angela!”

Her daughter looked up and broke into fresh tears.

“Mummy!”

Florence crossed the room in seconds and pulled both girls into her arms. She could feel Angela shaking. Tracy looked pale and frightened.

“Where is Divine?” Florence asked, pulling back just enough to look at them.

Angela pointed toward Gilbert’s bedroom with a trembling hand.

“Daddy locked himself inside with him.”

Florence’s heart lurched.

She released the girls and ran to the bedroom door, pounding on it with the side of her fist.

“Gilbert!”

There was no answer.

“Open this door right now!”

Silence.

She struck the door again, harder this time.

“Please, don’t do this. Don’t involve the children in this.”

At last, Gilbert’s voice came from inside, calm and bitter.

“You should have thought about that before you decided to humiliate me.”

Florence swallowed hard, fighting to keep her voice steady.

“Whatever happened between us is between us. Please let Divine come out.”

There was a pause. Then the doorknob turned slowly.

The door opened, and Gilbert stepped into the doorway holding Divine’s small hand. The little boy’s face was wet with tears, his eyes red and swollen from crying.

“Daddy,” Divine whispered, his voice trembling. “I want Mummy.”

Gilbert tightened his grip on the child’s hand.

“You’re coming with me.”

Florence felt the blood drain from her face.

“Where are you taking him?”

Gilbert looked at her with a cold, controlled expression.

“Anywhere but here.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can do whatever I want.”

“He’s our son.”

Gilbert’s jaw tightened. He stepped forward slightly, still holding Divine close.

“And since you’ve decided to destroy my reputation, you’ll learn what it feels like to lose something you love.”

Florence stared at him in disbelief. For years, she had endured his temper, his silence, his manipulation, all in the hope of preserving the family they had built. But this was different. This was cruelty without restraint.

Her knees weakened, and she sank to the floor in front of him.

“Gilbert, please.”

Her voice shook as tears filled her eyes.

“Take the house if you want it. Take the furniture. Take the car. Take everything. But don’t separate me from my son.”

By now, several neighbors had gathered at the doorway, drawn by the noise and the tension. They stood in silence, watching the painful scene unfold.

Mama Grace, the elderly woman who had lived next door for nearly ten years, stepped forward with concern etched across her face.

“Gilbert,” she said firmly, “the child is frightened. Please don’t do this.”

Gilbert ignored her and reached down for a small backpack resting near the door.

“I’ve already packed his clothes.”

Florence stared at the bag in shock.

He had planned this.

The realization hit her like a blow. This was not a spontaneous act of anger. He had prepared for it. He had intended to take Divine all along.

Before anyone could react, Divine suddenly pulled free from Gilbert’s hand and ran toward Florence.

“Mummy!”

Florence caught him instantly and wrapped both arms around him, holding him so tightly that he buried his face against her shoulder and began to sob.

“I don’t want to go,” he cried.

Gilbert stepped forward, his expression hardening.

“Give him to me.”

“No,” Florence said, clutching the boy tighter.

Divine clung to her dress with both hands, his small body shaking.

The neighbors moved closer.

“That’s enough,” one man said sharply. “This has gone too far.”

Gilbert turned on them, his anger rising.

“You people should stay out of my family matters.”

Mama Grace stepped between him and Florence, her voice calm but firm.

“No one wants trouble,” she said. “But frightening a child like this is wrong.”

For a moment, Gilbert hesitated. He looked around and saw that nearly everyone in the compound was watching. A few people had already lifted their phones and were recording the confrontation. The public attention clearly irritated him.

He pointed at Florence.

“You think you’ve won?”

Florence did not answer. Her focus remained on Divine, who was still crying against her shoulder.

Gilbert snatched up his car keys and walked toward the gate. Before getting into his vehicle, he turned back one last time.

“You’ve made a serious mistake, Florence.”

His voice was low, but the threat in it was unmistakable.

“I’ll make sure you regret this.”

Then he got into the car, started the engine, and drove out of the compound at speed.

The neighbors slowly began to disperse, some offering Florence quiet words of comfort before returning to their homes. The compound, which had been filled with tension only moments earlier, gradually fell silent.

Florence carried Divine inside and sat with him on the sofa, gently wiping the tears from his cheeks. He was still trembling, his breathing uneven from crying.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, though her own voice was unsteady. “You’re safe now.”

She held him close until his sobs began to ease.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe the worst had passed.

Then Angela rushed into the room, holding Florence’s phone in her hand. Her face was pale.

“Mummy…”

Florence looked up immediately.

“What is it?”

Angela swallowed hard before speaking.

“You have another message.”

Florence took the phone and unlocked the screen. The message was from an unknown number.

Gilbert has already contacted a lawyer. He’s preparing to fight for custody of Divine. This battle is only beginning.

Florence stared at the screen, her hands going cold. The room seemed to tilt around her as fear settled back into her chest, heavier than before.

The nightmare was not over.

It had only just begun.