Chapter 9 - A GHOST FROM THE PAST
A week later, the threat was entirely neutralized. Marcus Vance had been recalled and fired; nobody was left to pay his exorbitant fees.
I received the finalized, apostilled custody documents in the mail. Leo was legally, permanently mine. David had no right to ever see him, contact him, or claim him again.
I took Leo down to the beach that evening. The sunset was painting the Mediterranean sky in brilliant shades of violet and gold. Leo was building a sandcastle, his laughter carrying over the sound of the crashing waves.
My phone vibrated.
It was an unblocked number, an American area code. I answered it.
"Maya."
It was David. His voice was hollow, raspy, completely broken.
"How did you get this number?" I asked coldly.
"It doesn't matter," he sobbed. "Maya, please. They took the house. Mom and Chloe are facing ten years. Dad had a heart attack in his holding cell. I have nothing. I'm living in a motel. Please, let me see Leo. Just on a video call. He's my son."
I looked out at the ocean, feeling the warm breeze on my face. I remembered the Thanksgiving dinner. I remembered the smug look on Chloe's face, the cruelty in his mother's eyes, and the way David had looked at me and told me to pack my bags.
May you like
"You don't have a son, David," I said softly. "You told me to pack my bags. So I did. Enjoy your family."
I hung up, blocked the number, and tossed the phone into my beach bag.
