My Ex Husband Wants Me Back

Taken

Two days after Adrian saw Noah call Michael Dad, Mara arrived late at the school gate.

It was only five minutes.

A customer had come into the bookshop just as she was closing, an elderly woman who could not find the novel her husband had asked for. Mara had tried to help her quickly, but the woman kept apologising and searching through the list in her hands. By the time Mara finally reached the car, rain had started falling again.

She spent the entire drive telling herself that Noah would be fine.

Michael’s driver was with her. One of Michael’s security men had gone ahead to wait near the school entrance, just as he did every afternoon. Noah would be standing with him. He would have his backpack over one shoulder and that serious look on his face whenever he believed Mara had broken a promise.

Mara would apologise.

Noah would forgive her before she had finished speaking.

That was what she expected.

Instead, when the car turned onto the street outside the school, Mara saw children running in the wrong direction.

Parents were gathered near the gate. Teachers stood in the rain, trying to move people back from the pavement. One of the school staff was shouting into a phone. Another woman was crying with both hands pressed over her mouth.

Mara’s heart began to pound.

She opened the car door before the driver had fully stopped.

“What happened?” she asked, already running toward the gate.

No one answered her at first.

Then Mr Cole, Noah’s teacher, turned.

His face was pale.

“Mrs Hart.”

Mara stopped in front of him.

“Where is Noah?”

Mr Cole looked past her toward the street.

Mara felt the blood leave her face.

“Where is my son?”

The teacher’s mouth opened, but no words came out immediately. His eyes were wet.

“Two men took him,” he said at last. “They were waiting near the entrance. They grabbed him before we could reach him.”

For a second, Mara did not understand what she had heard.

The rain ran down her face. The children around her became blurred shapes. Someone was speaking, but the sound seemed far away.

“No,” she whispered.

Mr Cole stepped closer.

“Mrs Hart, I am so sorry.”

“No.” Mara shook her head hard. “No. He was with the guard. He was supposed to be with the guard.”

The security man was lying near the pavement a few metres away, supported by another guard. Blood ran from a cut above his eyebrow. He was conscious, but his face was twisted with pain.

Mara looked at him.

The guard saw her.

“Mrs Hart,” he said, struggling to sit up. “I am sorry.”

Mara ran toward him.

“Where is Noah?”

The guard swallowed and looked toward the road.

“The van was already waiting,” he said, his breath uneven. “One man hit me. The other two grabbed Noah and put him inside. It headed toward River Road.”

Mara stared at him.

“You saw where it went?”

The guard nodded once. “I am sorry, Mrs Hart. I could not stop them.”

Mara stood there for one second longer.

Then her body gave way.

The driver caught her before she hit the wet pavement, but Mara did not seem to feel his hands around her arms. A sound tore out of her, sharp and broken, and she tried to pull away from him.

“Noah,” she cried.

The name came out again and again.

“Noah. Noah.”

Mr Cole knelt beside her, his own face wet with rain.

“We called the police,” he said softly. “They are on their way.”

Mara looked at him, but she could not seem to understand his words.

The police were coming.

What would the police do with a road? What would they do with rain? What would they do with the empty place outside the school gate where her son should have been standing?

Mara pressed both hands over her face.

She could see Noah as he had looked that morning, still half asleep in his bed. She could see him turning at the front door to wave goodbye. She could hear him laughing when Michael told him his maths book looked heavier than he was.

She had sent him to school.

She had told him she would come for him.

Now he was gone.

The driver crouched in front of her.

“Mrs Hart, please. Let me call Mr Hart.”

Mara shook her head as tears ran down her face.

“No. I have to call him.”

Her hands trembled so badly that she dropped her phone when she tried to take it from her bag. The driver picked it up and held it out to her.

Mara could barely see the screen through her tears.

Michael’s name was at the top of her contacts.

She pressed it.

The phone rang once.

Then Michael answered.

“Mara?”

His voice was calm, but the moment he heard her breathing, the calmness changed.

“What happened?”

Mara tried to speak.

Nothing came out at first. Her throat had closed around every word.

Michael waited.

“Mara,” he said again, more softly this time. “Talk to me.”

“They took him.”

The sentence broke apart as she said it.

“They took Noah.”

For a moment, Michael said nothing.

Mara could hear a door close on his side of the call. She heard the quick movement of footsteps, then the low sound of him giving an order to someone nearby.

When he spoke again, his voice was steady.

“Where are you?”

“At the school.” Mara pressed one shaking hand against her chest. “I came late. I was only five minutes late, Michael. I was supposed to be here.”

“No.” His voice became firmer. “Listen to me. You are not going to blame yourself.”

“But he was waiting for me.”

“I know.” Michael drew a slow breath. “I know he was. But Adrian’s men planned this. You being five minutes late did not give them the right to take your child.”

Mara cried harder.

“What if he is scared?”

“He is scared,” Michael said quietly. The honesty in his voice made her grip the phone tighter. “But he knows you love him. He knows you are looking for him. We are going to bring him home.”

Mara tried to breathe, but every breath came too quickly.

Michael heard it.

“Put your hand on your chest,” he said gently.

Mara looked down at herself, confused.

“Michael, I cannot.”

“Yes, you can.” His voice remained low and patient. “Put your hand there. Just do it for me.”

Mara pressed her palm against the centre of her chest.

“That is it,” Michael said. “Take one breath in. Do not force it. Just one.”

Mara tried.

The air shook in her lungs.

“Again,” Michael said. “I am still here.”

She breathed again, though tears continued to run down her face.

Michael waited until her breathing slowed enough for her to hear him clearly.

“Is one of my guards with you?”

Mara looked up.

The guard who had been supporting the injured man stood nearby. He was watching her with a face full of guilt.

“Yes.”

“Hand him the phone.”

Mara hesitated. She did not want to let go of Michael’s voice. It was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

“Mara,” he said softly, as though he understood. “I am not leaving you. Give him the phone.”

She held it out.

The guard took it carefully.

“Mr Hart.”

Michael’s voice changed.

Mara could not hear every word, but she heard enough.

“Get my wife away from the gate,” he said. His tone was controlled, but there was something hard beneath it now. “Bring her home. Two men stay with her until I arrive. The others give the police everything they need, then follow the route toward River Road. Nobody acts alone. Nobody goes after the van without orders.”

The guard listened without interrupting.

“Yes, sir,” he said at last.

He gave the phone back to Mara.

Michael was still on the line.

“I am coming home,” he told her. “Sarah will be there when you arrive.”

Mara closed her eyes.

“I do not want to leave.”

“I know you do not.” His voice softened again. “But standing in the rain will not bring Noah back. You need to be somewhere safe while I find him.”

Mara looked toward the empty road.

Every part of her wanted to run down it. She wanted to search every car, every street, every building near the river until she found her son.

But her legs were shaking too badly to hold her.

Michael seemed to hear the silence in her.

“I am bringing him back, Mara,” he said. “I need you to trust me.”

Mara pressed the phone against her ear.

For the first time since Mr Cole told her Noah was gone, she allowed herself to believe that someone else could carry part of the fear with her.

“I trust you,” she whispered.

The driver helped Mara into the car.

She did not remember sitting down. She did not remember the door closing or the car pulling away from the school.

She only remembered looking back through the rain streaked window at the school gate.

Noah’s teacher stood beneath an umbrella beside the police who had finally arrived. The security guard was being helped toward an ambulance. Parents held their children close as they hurried away.

Mara pressed her forehead against the glass.

Somewhere in the city, Noah was afraid.

And all she could do was go home and wait for Michael to bring him back.