I came home after two years in Singapore and found my four-year-old son crawling on bruised knees while my husband’s mistress laughed and called him a little animal. / Chapter 28 / 80

Chapter 28 - Whispers Across the Border

The takeover was swift, brutal, and total. Within forty-eight hours, the corrupt board members were purged, their fraudulent accounts frozen, and millions of dollars in embezzled funds were diverted into a secure trust fund established solely for Leo’s medical care, education, and future.

I made sure Dominic’s remaining legal defense funds were completely impounded. If he wanted a lawyer, he would have to use a public defender. He had left my son to starve on the floor; he would face justice with nothing.

That evening, I returned to the secure penthouse where Leo was happily drawing pictures of lions and airplanes at the kitchen counter, supervised by his dedicated nanny and two armed guards outside the door.

"Mommy!" Leo dropped his crayon and ran into my open arms.

I scooped him up, swinging him around as his sweet, innocent laughter filled the apartment—the greatest sound in the entire universe. "Did you have a good day, my little king?"

"Yes! Look, I drew you!" He proudly handed me a piece of paper showing a tall woman with golden hair standing next to a little boy holding hands under a bright yellow sun.

Tears pricked my eyes. I pressed a warm kiss to his forehead. "It's the most beautiful drawing in the world."

Just then, the head of our private security team, Marcus, walked into the foyer, his face grim. He held a small, black-lacquered wooden box wrapped in velvet.

"Mrs. Sterling. This was delivered to the front desk ten minutes ago via an anonymous courier."

Julian stepped forward immediately, holding up a hand. "Did you scan it?"

"Scanned for explosives and toxins. Clean," Marcus replied. "Addressed specifically to Leo."

My heart clenched. I gently set Leo down with his nanny in the playroom and closed the door before returning to the foyer. "Open it."

Marcus carefully slid the velvet lid aside. Inside lay an antique silver pocket watch, its glass cracked, its face frozen at 11:42 PM—the exact minute the cliffside terrace had detonated.