The Heir of Stephen Knight

Chapter One: Shadows Resurface "Hey mom, look, it's Knight Motors. " The silence of their small sitting room was pierced by Adam's voice, and June's already delicate composure was further shattered by his innocent curiosity. She halted, her gaze fixed on the screen. Outside Knight Motors, a towering glass and steel skyscraper, stood Stephen Knight—tall and self-assured, illuminated by the summer sun. He was addressing the reporters, speaking about the company's exceptional performance over the previous month and Knight Motors was breaking bounds. He seemed to have grown taller, more imposing than she recalled. Her chest tightened, and her heart raced at the sight of him—the man from her past. Nothing was hazy; she remembered everything, everything about him, and of course she couldn't forget him. June swallowed hard and willed the power to sound calm. "Yeah." She said before taking the remote to change the channel. "No more TV for you young man. Go finish your homework ." Adam narrowed his eyes and scowled at the television before turning back to her. “ But mom, I already finished my homework," Whined the nine-year-old. “ You said I could watch TV for an hour.” But that was before she saw the father of the son she had kept secret for almost ten years on television in the same city she was in and about thirty minutes from where she lived. Even though every muscle in her body urged her to go pack her bags, get her passport, and flee, she forced on smile and replied "You have more than one homework panda." Adam seemed a bit put out but sighed before he resigned to do her bidding. The door behind him clicked shut as he retreated to his room. June's breath came in quick bursts, her hands trembling as she gripped the armrest, feeling as if the room had been plunged into darkness. She fanned herself with her hand because the heater had suddenly started to work. Each step she took echoed in the space as she stood up to pace, chewing nervously on her fingernails. A notification pinged on her phone, buzzing on the coffee table. After a brief moment of hesitation, she picked it up, glancing at the unknown number. Her stomach lurched; something felt off. Surely it couldn't be him? It didn't make sense. She just saw him on TV. Coincidences like that don't happen in real life. It could be anyone so she thought. The phone vibrated again—this time a call, jolting June from her thoughts. Fully convincing herself it wasn’t him, she answered the call. "Hello?" (Silence) She tried to sound collected, but her voice cracked, betraying her. It was but one word, yet she would recognize that voice anywhere. "June." Just one word, but it sent shivers racing down her spine. She instinctively knew something was wrong. It was just one word, yet she understood he was close. She would see him soon. Tightening her grip on the phone, she muttered, "Who?" "I need to see you. We need to talk." His voice was too low, but the underlying urgency was unmistakable. She could hear traffic noise in the background. "I'm coming over." He said, like he was a casual work friend who wanted to have a little tea party after a long day at work. Panic surged in her chest, her heart hammering against the cage her heart was confined in. "No, no, no, you can’t just… how do you even… you don’t even know where I… you can’t…" (Line disconnects) He hung up. How dare he? Struggling to breathe, she turned her gaze back to the telly. He was just there—smiling and confident—now he was coming here? After everything? After all this time? Do people just pop back into other people's lives like that? What does he want? Her mind raced, and she ran a shaky hand through her already messy hair. She ran multiple scenarios of what could possibly make him call with such urgency. "Not right now." "I’m not ready for this," she said, once more pleading for answers about the blue curtains and the antique pots she'd collected over the years. But her words fell flat in the empty room. (Ding dong and a knock) The door was knocked on too soon. Three cruel raps echoed. A shock of panic jolted through her, her heart quickening. Her mind screamed at her to ignore it and act as if it hadn’t happened; she stood frozen, breathing shallowly. The second knock, however, was louder and more insistent. Her legs felt jelly-like, each step a Goliath effort as she made her way to the door. When she stood in front of it, she hesitated to open it. Her heart pounded in her ears as she twisted the cold doorknob and gently eased the door open, revealing who stood on the other side—and as surely as the sky was blue, the leaves were green, and sugar was white, it was him. THE Stephen Knight. He was staring at his shoes when the door creaked open, but their eyes locked once the creaking stopped. In the movies, this would be the moment when someone knocked over a vase or a glass, but without warning, he said her name with a gentleness that felt entirely foreign. Yet, she couldn’t let her guard down. She needed to snap out of it. "WHY are you here? Who gave you my address, who…who gave you my phone number?" The question burst from her lips, sharper than she intended, laced with fury, anger, anxiety, and fear. She didn't need an answer though. He was Stephen Knight. He could get whatever information he wanted even if the person he was trying to find was buried beneath the pyramids of Egypt. “We need to talk, June, and I don't think it's something we should discuss on your front porch. “he said, his voice steady but laced with authority, a threat dangling in the air. It was urgent. It was serious. His voice was still the same, she noted. "Well, there is nothing to talk about, and I would like you to leave my house, Stephen. I want to leave the porch, this street, this town, this country if you can; I don't care." She said, gesturing dramatically but still holding the door firm, her composure hanging by a thread. "After all this time, you can’t just come here and ask me to invite you into my house or demand anything from me. We have nothing to talk about!” Said June, unyielding and dead serious, and Stephen, smiling in disbelief, paced back and forth like he couldn't believe she would let his royal self stand outside. Prick "We have everything to talk about," he countered, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart pound. "And I'll start with my son. " "What do you want from me?" she managed to say, her voice wavering, betraying the storm inside her. But before she could say anything else, h e pushed past her, barging into her life again, but this time not to steal her heart; this time, it was her son he had come for.