Chapter 8: The Wolf Comes Ashore
1641 Words
The sun had barely risen over the Mediterranean when I saw the helicopter.
A black speck against the pale pink sky, growing larger with each beat of my heart. I stood on the beach, barefoot in the sand, my arms wrapped around myself. The morning air was warm, but I was shaking.
He’d found us.
Behind me, the small villa sat quiet. Theo was still asleep, exhausted from yesterday’s flight and his late-night coding. I’d checked on him three times since midnight. Each time, he was curled around his stuffed whale, his dark hair falling across his forehead, looking so much like his father it made my chest ache.
I should have run further. I should have disappeared better.
But Alexander Blackwood was a hunter, and I had just learned that hunters always catch their prey.
The helicopter descended. The rotor wash kicked up sand, stinging my bare legs. I didn’t move. I stood my ground, my spine straight, my chin high.
The door slid open.
Alexander stepped out.
He wasn’t wearing a suit. Dark jeans. A white linen shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Sunglasses hid his eyes, but I could feel his gaze on me—possessive, furious, hungry.
He walked toward me across the sand. No hurry. No hesitation. A man who knew he had already won.
“Elena.”
His voice was low. Rough. He stopped inches from me, close enough that I could smell him—cedar, expensive whiskey, and the salt of the sea.
“Alexander.”
“You ran.” He pulled off his sunglasses. His dark eyes were bloodshot. He hadn’t slept either. “You took my son and you ran.”
My son. The words hit me like a physical blow.
“He’s not yours.”
“Don’t.” His voice cracked. Just a little. “Don’t stand there and lie to me. Not anymore.”
I wanted to lie. I wanted to push him away, to protect Theo with every weapon I had. But the look in his eyes stopped me.
He wasn’t angry.
He was broken.
“I read the file,” he said. “The sealed records. I had my lawyers in Paris at midnight. They found everything. The birth certificate. The hospital notes. The DNA test you didn’t know they ran.”
My blood ran cold. “What DNA test?”
“Standard in French hospitals when the mother is alone. They took a sample. Matched it against the national database.” He stepped closer. “He’s mine, Elena. The lab confirmed it at 99.97 percent. ”
The world tilted.
I had been so careful. So precise. I had hidden every trace, sealed every record, built an empire to protect my son.
And a hospital lab had undone it all.
“I didn’t know,” I whispered. “I swear to God, Alexander, I didn’t know.”
“I believe you.” His hand came up. His fingers brushed my cheek. “But I know now. ”
“Where is he?”
The question was soft. Dangerous.
I stepped back. “No.”
“Elena—”
“No. You don’t get to walk in here after four years and demand to see him. You don’t get to play father because a lab report says you share DNA.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m not playing anything.”
“Then what are you doing?” My voice rose. “Flying to a private island in a helicopter? Threatening me? Blackmailing me with contracts and court orders? That’s not fatherhood, Alexander. That’s conquest.”
He was quiet for a long moment. The waves crashed behind us. The helicopter blades slowed to a stop.
“You’re right,” he said finally.
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re right.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “I’ve been hunting you. Tracking you. Trying to control you. Because I didn’t know how else to get you back.”
“Get me back?” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You threw me away, Alexander. Your family threw me out like garbage. There is no ‘back.’ ”
“I know.” His voice was raw. “I know what I did. I know what they did. And I’ve spent four years hating myself for it. ”
I stared at him. The wind whipped my hair across my face.
“I looked for you,” he continued. “Not just because I wanted to possess you. Because I needed to apologize. Because I needed to tell you that I believed her—Victoria—and I was wrong. I was so wrong, Elena.”
“Words.”
“I know.” He stepped closer. “Words are cheap. That’s why I’m not going to ask for forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
“Then what are you asking for?”
He looked toward the villa. Toward the window of the room where Theo was sleeping.
“Five minutes. ”
My heart stopped. “What?”
“Five minutes with him. That’s all I’m asking. No lawyers. No courts. No contracts. Just five minutes to see my son. ”
“And if I say no?”
His eyes met mine. Dark. Honest. Terrifying in their vulnerability.
“Then I’ll get back in the helicopter and I’ll leave. And I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it. ”
I searched his face for the lie. For the trap. For the cold, calculating billionaire I had been fighting for weeks.
I didn’t find it.
“You’ll leave?” I asked. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” He pulled something from his pocket. A piece of paper. “I had my lawyers draw up a document. It says I waive all parental rights. No custody. No visitation. No claim.”
I stared at the paper. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I don’t want to take him from you, Elena. I want to earn him. ”
The waves crashed. The wind blew. My heart hammered against my ribs.
“Five minutes,” I said. “From a distance. You don’t touch him. You don’t wake him. You just look.”
Alexander nodded. His throat moved as he swallowed. “Thank you.”
I led him to the villa.
The door opened silently. The hallway was cool, shaded from the rising sun. I stopped outside Theo’s bedroom and put my hand on the knob.
“He looks like you,” I whispered. “It’s going to hurt.”
Alexander didn’t speak. He just stood behind me, close enough that I could feel his heat, his breath on my hair.
I opened the door.
Theo was still asleep. Curled on his side, one arm wrapped around his stuffed whale. His dark hair was a mess. His lips were slightly parted. He looked like a painting. Like a dream. Like everything Alexander had lost and never known he wanted.
Behind me, I heard Alexander’s breath catch.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the small boy in the bed, and I watched the billionaire crumble.
A single tear slid down his cheek.
He wiped it away quickly, angrily, as if ashamed.
“He’s perfect, ” he whispered.
I nodded. My own throat was tight.
“Five minutes,” I said. “Starting now.”
Alexander didn’t move. He just stood there, watching his son sleep, looking like a man who had just found something he didn’t know he’d lost.
The minutes ticked by.
At exactly five minutes, I touched his arm. “Time’s up.”
He didn’t argue. He turned and walked back down the hallway, out of the villa, onto the beach.
I followed him.
“You kept your word,” I said.
“I told you.” He didn’t turn around. “I’m not that man anymore. ”
“How do I know?”
He stopped. Looked out at the sea. “You don’t. That’s the problem. ”
The helicopter blades began to turn.
He walked toward it, then paused. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper—the one waiving his parental rights.
He held it out to me.
“Take it.”
I took the paper. My hand was shaking.
“I’ll be in New York,” he said. “When you’re ready to talk—really talk—you know where to find me. ”
He climbed into the helicopter. The door slid shut.
I stood on the beach, the paper clutched in my hand, as the helicopter rose into the sky and disappeared over the water.
Theo found me an hour later, still sitting on the sand, still holding the paper.
“Mommy?” He sat down beside me. “You’re crying. ”
I touched my cheek. It was wet.
“I’m okay, baby.”
“Your left eye is twitching. ”
I almost laughed. “I know.”
He looked at the paper in my hand. “What’s that?”
I folded it carefully and tucked it into my pocket. “A promise. ”
“Whose promise?”
I pulled him into my lap and wrapped my arms around him. He was small and warm and solid and real.
“His, ” I said. “And maybe… mine.”
Theo tilted his head, those dark eyes studying my face. “The ghost? ”
I nodded.
“Is he coming back?”
I looked out at the empty sea. The helicopter was long gone. But the waves still crashed. The sun still rose. And somewhere out there, Alexander Blackwood was keeping his word.
“I don’t know, baby.” I kissed his dark hair. “But I think… maybe that’s okay. ”
End of Chapter 8
- Writer
