The drive felt like an eternity. Eleanor’s old sedan groaned as she pushed it down the dirt paths of the marshlands. Her mind was a storm of guilt. How had she not seen it? She knew Adam had a temper, a cold streak that reminded her of his father, but she had wanted to believe he had changed for Chloe.
She remembered the bruises Chloe had tried to hide. “I tripped on the stairs, Eleanor.” “The cabinet door caught me.” Eleanor had looked away because it was easier than facing the monster she had raised.
No more looking away, she whispered to herself.
She saw Adam’s SUV parked haphazardly in the tall grass near the cabin. The lights were off, but a thin trail of smoke drifted from the chimney.
Eleanor didn’t call out. She didn’t announce herself. She grabbed a heavy iron tire iron from her trunk and crept toward the back door.
Inside, she heard a sound that broke her heart and mended it all at once.
A cry.
High-pitched, hungry, and very much alive.
She peered through the grimy window of the kitchen. Adam was standing over a bassinet—a cheap, plastic thing that looked out of place in the rotting cabin. He was holding a bottle, his movements jerky and panicked.
“Shut up,” Adam hissed at the infant. “Just shut up. I have to think.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a passport and a thick stack of cash. He wasn’t planning on staying. He was going to disappear with the heir to the family estate—the only thing he actually valued from his marriage to Chloe. Chloe had been the “vessel,” and now that the vessel was broken, he was taking the prize.
Eleanor kicked the back door with a strength she didn’t know she possessed. The wood splintered, the lock giving way.
Adam spun around, dropping the bottle. “Mom? How did you—”
“I’m not your mother today,” Eleanor said, her voice steady and cold. “Today, I’m the woman who’s going to make sure you never see the sun again.”
Adam laughed, a jagged, desperate sound. “You and what army? You’re an old woman. That girl was supposed to die. The doctor gave her enough sedative to kill a horse. She shouldn’t have woken up. She’s a freak. Just like her mother.”
“She woke up because she loved that baby more than she feared you,” Eleanor said, stepping into the light. “And you? You’re just a coward hiding in the woods.”
Adam lunged for her, but Eleanor didn’t flinch. She swung the tire iron, catching him hard across the ribs. He gasped, falling back against the table.
At that moment, the woods outside exploded with the sound of sirens. Blue and red lights reflected off the marsh water. Miller and the Sheriff had followed her.
Adam looked at the window, then at the baby, then at the back exit. He realized the game was over. The “perfect” Adam Thorne, the golden boy of Savannah, was gone.
“She’s dead anyway, Mom,” Adam sneered, clutching his side as the deputies kicked in the front door. “Even if I go down, she’s gone. I won.”
