Chapter 11 I CAME TOO LATE

Chapter 11 I CAME TOO LATE

HAYLEY

“Mommy, what movie are we watching tonight?!”

It’s been three days since I served Edward divorce papers and so far, he’s hell bent on making my life a living hell.

He started by poaching my lawyer.

Mr. Esteban called one morning and declared that he was no longer available to work with me.

That evening, I saw a press release on their website: Esteban & Sterling LLP had been appointed as the official legal partners of DaSilva Automobile.

That same night, I received a text from an unknown number; “are you tired of these games yet? Remember, Hayley, I am always ten steps ahead.”

I blocked all his previous numbers, but Edward texts me with a new one every single day. If he had given me this much attention while I was still head over heels in love with me, maybe I wouldn’t be fighting for a divorce right now.

Silvan sent a new lawyer all the way from New York — a fierce Indian litigator with twelve years of experience under her belt, and an impressive record.

So far, Edward has stubbornly refused to sign the divorce papers. He has also refused to honour the court’s invitation.

Honestly, I’m sick of it.

“Mommy! Are you listening?”

“Yes, my baby.” I pull Toby into my arms and sniff his hair. He smells like my peach shampoo. I love my baby so much it hurts.

After a lot of back and forth, Edward finally agreed to let him visit for the weekend.

The plan is to stay in, bake cookies, watch endless movies and just bond all weekend long.

But the devil is always on the lookout to ruin things for me because that plan scatters the moment my phone rings.

I glance at the caller ID and goosebumps pebbles my arms.

I would recognize that number even in my nightmares.

The Reaper.

We haven’t spoken since I roamed the streets of New York. That is over ten years ago.

“Toby, I have to take this. Mommy will be back soon, okay?”

“Okay, mommy.”

I ruffle his hair, my heart pounding furiously as I press the phone to my ear.

“Hello…?”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m shoving my hands into the sleeves of my sweater, distractedly doling out instructions to the nanny who showed up three minutes ago.

She’s young. Probably between 20 and 23. But she looks competent, and honestly, that is all that matters. I am even grateful that the agency could spare someone at such a last minute.

“Make sure he’s fed and tucked into bed by 10 PM. I’ll be back by midnight.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Mommy, where are you going? Aren’t we watching the movie anymore?”

Toby’s jutted lower lip and soulful eyes hit me like a punch to my stomach. I sink to my feet, swamped with guilt.

“Mommy has to handle something really urgent, my son. Be a good boy until I return, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

I huddle into my sweater and step into the pouring rain… but if I had known that this  would turn out to be one of the worst nights of my entire life, I would have stayed at home with my child.

THREE HOURS LATER…

“Hello, I’m calling from the Vanderhall Medical Centre. Am I speaking to Mrs. Hayley DaSilva?”

I can barely hear her over the shrill sound of wind and rain. I just finished my meeting. All I want is to go home and hold my son.

“Yes, you are. Any problem?”

She hesitates for a full second and somehow, I know my entire world is about to shatter.

“You need to come to the hospital right away, ma’am. Your son was admitted over an hour ago…”

I alight from the taxi, almost forgetting to pay the driver as I hurry into the hospital.

The sterile white walls and the sharp scent of antiseptic only deepen the fear coiling in my stomach.

I don’t remember ever feeling this scared.

Not when my mother, and only family, died, leaving me all alone in this world.

Not when I had to sleep on the open streets for weeks because I had nowhere else to go.

If anything happens to Toby, if anything happens to my child…

“Excuse me?” My voice is already breaking as I speak to the receptionist. “The little boy that was brought in about an hour ago.. Toby, I’m his mother. Where is he?”

The pity in her eyes hits me like a fist to the chest, nearly shattering me on the spot.

“Room 306. The doctors are already there.”

In my state of panic, I don’t remember how I got there, but moments later, I’m bursting through the double doors, desperate to see my son.

The sight that greets me has my legs crumpling.

The world tilts.

I sink to the floor, a strange, desperate sound escaping my lips.

My heart stops beating. My chest feels like it’s been sliced open.

My lips are moving in a fervent, desperate prayer; “no, no… God, please, no. Please…”

Doctors and nurses dressed in white hover over the bed, speaking in hushed, urgent tones, but there’s no mistaking the small body that lies stiff beneath the hospital’s white sheets.

I take one look at his ashen face and it instantly dawns on me.

I came too late.

My son is dead.

Toby is dead.

My son is gone…