Chapter 22: The Child in the Middle
1186 Words
Bonny’s POV
Every trace of warmth vanished from the room.
Adrian answered immediately.
“Yes.”
I watched his face as he listened.
Controlled.
Still.
Dangerously unreadable.
Then:
“Where?”
A pause.
“Understood.”
Another.
“We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
He ended the call.
My pulse was already racing.
“What happened?”
He set the phone down carefully.
“Amelia was stopped at the airport.”
I straightened.
“With Kristy?”
“Yes.”
Relief hit first.
Then dread.
“Is Kristy okay?”
“So far.”
The phrase did not help.
“What does ‘so far’ mean?”
“It means the child is physically unharmed and frightened.”
My chest tightened.
“Where are they now?”
“Temporary child services intake center.”
I was already reaching for my bag.
Adrian noticed.
“You don’t need to come.”
“I’m coming.”
“This may be ugly.”
“It already is.”
A beat.
Then he nodded once.
“Fine. Ten minutes.”
---
The drive across the city felt longer than it was.
Night traffic blurred past the windows.
Pretoria lights reflected against the glass like broken stars.
I sat rigid in the passenger seat.
Adrian drove himself tonight.
No driver.
No calls.
No music.
Just speed and intention.
“She really tried to leave?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“With a child and no notice?”
“Yes.”
“Why send me that photo?”
“To recruit sympathy or leverage.”
I looked at him.
“You say things like people are equations.”
“They often are.”
“And feelings?”
“Messier variables.”
I folded my arms.
“Kristy is not a variable.”
“No,” he said quietly. “She’s the only innocent party.”
That shut me up.
We pulled into a government building with tired fluorescent lighting and too many locked doors.
Nothing about it felt designed for comfort.
Inside, a caseworker met us.
Mid-forties, efficient eyes, clipped manner.
“Mr. Knight?”
“Yes.”
“And Ms… Mrs. Knight?”
I blinked.
“Still adjusting to that title.”
She almost smiled.
“I’m Lindiwe Maseko.”
She led us down a corridor.
“Police intercepted Ms. Amelia Carter after an alert was flagged by the child’s father regarding possible unlawful removal. No charges yet. That depends on custody records and intent.”
“Where is Kristy?” I asked.
“With a child advocate.”
“Can I see her?”
Lindiwe studied me.
“She asked for you.”
I stopped walking.
“What?”
“She knows your name. She was crying for Bonny.”
My throat tightened painfully.
Of course she did.
For years I had been “Aunty Bonny.”
Birthday gifts.
School visits.
Ice cream after tantrums.
All while her parents betrayed me behind closed doors.
I looked at Adrian.
Something in his expression softened.
“Go,” he said.
---
The room was small.
Warm colors trying their best against institutional sadness.
Kristy sat on a little couch clutching a stuffed rabbit.
Her curls were messy.
Eyes swollen from crying.
When she saw me, she launched herself forward.
“Aunty Bonny!”
I dropped to my knees and caught her.
She collided into me with the full force of trust.
And just like that, I nearly cried.
“Hey, bug,” I whispered, holding her tight. “Hey.”
“She said Daddy is bad,” Kristy sobbed into my shoulder. “Mommy said we had to run.”
I closed my eyes.
Children should never have to carry adult wars.
“You’re safe now,” I said softly.
“Are you mad at me?”
The question hit like a blade.
I pulled back enough to look at her.
“Never.”
“Mommy said everyone leaves.”
My voice nearly failed.
“I’m here.”
She clung harder.
I held her until her breathing slowed.
A child advocate sat quietly nearby, pretending not to witness heartbreak.
After a while, there was a gentle knock.
Adrian stood in the doorway.
He had removed his jacket.
Tie loosened.
Less billionaire.
More man.
Kristy noticed him and hid partially behind me.
Smart child.
“It’s okay,” I said.
He crouched several feet away, keeping distance.
“Hello, Kristy.”
She stared suspiciously.
“Are you scary?”
I nearly laughed.
Adrian answered seriously.
“Sometimes.”
She considered that.
Then nodded.
Honesty recognized honesty.
“Do you make Bonny sad?” she asked next.
I choked.
Adrian’s eyes flicked to me briefly.
“Not intentionally.”
Acceptable answer.
Kristy held out the stuffed rabbit.
“His name is Buttons.”
Adrian examined the rabbit like a treaty document.
“Distinguished.”
She giggled.
I stared.
He had charmed a traumatized child in under twenty seconds.
Infuriatingly competent.
---
Later, Kristy fell asleep curled against me.
Lindiwe returned.
“The immediate issue is placement tonight.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Until parental authority is clarified, the child cannot simply be handed over.”
“Seth is her father.”
“Allegedly and likely, but records matter.”
I looked down at Kristy.
“She can’t stay here.”
“She won’t stay in intake,” Lindiwe said gently. “We prefer kinship placement when possible.”
My stomach tightened.
“Meaning?”
“She knows and trusts you.”
I looked up sharply.
“I’m not family.”
“Psychologically, perhaps more than legally.”
I had no answer.
Adrian did.
“She stays with us.”
I turned.
“What?”
Lindiwe raised a brow.
“You’re volunteering?”
“Yes.”
“Adrian,” I hissed. “You can’t just collect children.”
He ignored me.
“We have secure residence, staff, and resources.”
Lindiwe looked impressed despite herself.
“That may help, but Mrs. Knight must agree.”
Both of them looked at me.
Kristy slept against my chest.
Warm.
Small.
Trusting.
My heart was already lost.
“I…” I swallowed. “I need to think.”
Kristy stirred and whispered in sleep:
“Aunty Bonny.”
That was the end of thinking.
I looked at Lindiwe.
“She comes with us.”
Adrian said nothing.
But when I met his eyes, something deep and steady lived there.
Approval.
Respect.
Maybe more.
Lindiwe nodded.
“I’ll prepare emergency placement papers.”
She left.
The room went quiet.
I looked at Adrian.
“Our life is insane.”
“Yes.”
“There will be crayons in your penthouse.”
He considered.
“Manageable.”
“She may break things.”
“We own replacements.”
“She may cry at night.”
A pause.
“Then we won’t ignore it.”
That landed deeper than he knew.
I looked back at sleeping Kristy.
Then quietly asked:
“Why did you volunteer so fast?”
His answer came low and certain.
“Because some children should not learn abandonment twice.”
- Writer
