Chapter 4: The Boy in Room 1708
1051 Words
The elevator doors closed.
For a few seconds, I could not move.
My hands were shaking.
Not because I was afraid of Alexander.
At least, that was what I told myself.
I was afraid of what he could do once he knew the truth.
Men like Alexander Blackwood did not ask for permission.
They took.
They conquered.
They called it love only after they had already won.
The elevator climbed higher.
I stared at my reflection in the polished metal doors.
My lipstick was still perfect.
My hair was still in place.
Only my eyes betrayed me.
They looked like the eyes of the girl who had left the Blackwood mansion three years ago with one hand over
her stomach and nowhere to go.
No.
I closed my eyes.
That girl was gone.
I had buried her in hospital bills, sleepless nights, cheap apartments, business failures, and every morning Noah
smiled at me like I was his whole world.
When the elevator stopped on the seventeenth floor, I stepped out quickly.
The babysitter stood outside my suite, holding Noah's dinosaur blanket.
"Ms. Carter," she said, worried. "He keeps asking for you. His forehead feels warm."
My heart clenched.
I pushed the door open.
"Noah?"
A small figure sat up in the middle of the king sized bed.
His cheeks were flushed. His dark hair stuck to his forehead. The moment he saw me, his lips trembled.
"Mommy."
I crossed the room and pulled him into my arms.
"I'm here, baby. I'm here."
He wrapped his little arms around my neck.
"You were gone too long."
"I'm sorry."
"You promised."
The hurt in his voice was small, but it cut deeper than anything Alexander had said tonight.
I kissed his forehead.
He was warm, but not burning.
"Mommy had work. But I'm back now."
Noah leaned against me, his tiny fingers gripping my dress.
"Did the bad people make you sad?"
I froze.
The babysitter looked away politely.
I forced a smile.
"No, sweetheart. Nobody can make me sad unless I let them."
Noah looked up at me with those gray eyes.
Alexander's eyes.
Too serious.
Too sharp.
Too much like a man who had never known this little boy existed.
"Did you see him?" Noah asked.
My breath stopped.
"Who?"
"The man in the picture."
For a second, I could not speak.
"What picture?"
Noah pointed at my open suitcase.
Inside, half hidden between a silk scarf and a jewelry box, was an old photograph.
I had forgotten it was there.
A wedding photo.
Alexander and me.
He was not smiling.
Neither was I.
But my eyes in that photo had been full of love.
Stupid, loyal, desperate love.
Noah had found it.
I walked over slowly and picked up the photo.
"Where did you see this?"
"It fell out." He rubbed his eyes. "Is he my daddy?"
The room went silent.
The question I had feared for three years had finally come.
Not from Alexander.
From my son.
My fingers tightened around the photo.
I had practiced so many answers.
When you are older.
He is far away.
He does not know.
He cannot be part of our life.
But Noah was looking at me like the truth was something I owed him.
And he was right.
I sat beside him.
"Noah," I said softly, "some stories are hard to explain."
"Is he bad?"
I swallowed.
Was Alexander bad?
He had been cruel.
He had been blind.
He had broken me when I was carrying his child.
But bad was too simple.
And Noah was too young to carry my bitterness.
"He hurt Mommy," I said carefully. "A long time ago."
Noah frowned.
"Then I don't like him."
A sad laugh escaped me.
"You don't have to decide that now."
He leaned into me.
"Will he take you away?"
My heart twisted.
"No one will take me away from you."
"Promise?"
I held his face in my hands.
"I promise."
Someone knocked on the door.
Three sharp knocks.
The babysitter looked at me.
I looked toward the entrance.
No one knew this room number except Clara, the hotel staff, and my assistant.
My pulse slowed.
Then hardened.
I handed Noah to the babysitter.
"Take him into the bedroom."
"Ms. Carter?"
"Please."
Noah clung to me.
"Mommy?"
"It's okay. Go with her for a minute."
The babysitter carried him into the bedroom and closed the door.
The knock came again.
This time, louder.
I walked to the door and looked through the peephole.
Alexander stood outside.
Alone.
No security.
No Vanessa.
Just him.
But somehow, that was worse.
I opened the door only a few inches.
"Are you insane?" I whispered.
His eyes moved over my face.
Then past my shoulder.
"Is he here?"
My hand tightened on the door.
"You need to leave."
"I saw his face."
"You saw a photo on my phone. That gives you no right to follow me."
Alexander's jaw was rigid.
"Emily, open the door."
"No."
"Then answer me."
I almost laughed.
Three years ago, I would have answered anything just to keep him looking at me.
Now I wanted nothing more than to shut the door in his face.
"You don't get to appear after three years and demand answers."
His expression changed.
For the first time, I saw something close to desperation.
"Is he mine?"
Behind me, from the bedroom, Noah coughed.
Alexander heard it.
His eyes sharpened.
I saw the exact second he understood the child was inside.
He stepped forward.
I blocked the doorway.
"Do not take another step."
His gaze dropped to my hand on the door.
Then back to my face.
"Emily."
My name sounded different in his mouth now.
Not cold.
Not bored.
Almost careful.
That made me angrier.
"You should have used that voice three years ago."
His throat moved.
Before he could answer, the bedroom door opened.
Noah stepped out, dragging his dinosaur blanket behind him.
"Mommy?"
Alexander went completely still.
My blood turned cold.
Noah looked from me to the man at the door.
Then he tilted his head.
His gray eyes narrowed in confusion.
Alexander stared at him like the world had disappeared.
Noah blinked.
Then he asked the one question I was not ready for.
"Are you the man who made Mommy cry?"
- Writer
