Chapter 168 If I can’t Have Him….

Chapter 168 If I can’t Have Him….
Sarah's POV

Rain soaked through my clothes as I walked toward the front door. Each step sank heavier into the mud, my legs trembling beneath me.

Behind me, Aaron melted into the shadows along the side of the property, heading toward the back exactly as planned. Or as he had planned. My heart hammered so violently against my ribs it hurt to breathe.

Kendrick. Please be okay. Please.

The front door stood slightly ajar, waiting like an open mouth. I pushed it open. The hinges groaned loudly, the sound echoing through the hollow house like a warning.

“Damn it,” I whispered.

Dust coated every surface. The air hung thick with mold and rotting wood, clinging to the back of my throat. For a heartbeat, nothing moved.

Then Zara’s voice drifted from deeper inside, calm and chilling.

“You’re late.”

My stomach plummeted. “Zara?”

“Living room.”

I swallowed hard and followed the sound down a dark hallway lined with peeling wallpaper and broken furniture. Every corner felt like a trap closing in.

I stepped into the living room and froze.

Kendrick.

My baby lay in a portable crib near the cold fireplace, sleeping peacefully, his tiny chest rising and falling in gentle rhythm. Unharmed.

Relief crashed over me so hard my knees buckled. 

“Kendrick—”

I lunged forward. Zara stepped smoothly into my path, blocking me.

“No.”

I skidded to a halt, breath ragged. “Move.”

Her expression stayed eerily calm, almost amused. “No.”

“Zara, please.”

“Stay where you are.”

My eyes locked on Kendrick. He looked perfect. Safe. Tears blurred my vision. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then let me hold him.”

“No.” The word fell like a blade.

Something inside me shattered. “Are you insane?” I shouted, the sound bouncing off the walls. “You kidnapped my child!”

“I borrowed him.”

I stared at her, disbelief twisting into a broken laugh. “Borrowed him? Have you completely lost your mind?”

For a split second, pain flickered across her face—raw and unguarded—before the mask slammed back into place.

“You know what’s funny?” she said, voice dangerously soft. “You still don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

Her smile was sad, almost pitying. “This was never about Kendrick.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” She took a slow step closer. “This was always about you.”

I closed my eyes briefly, the weight of it pressing down on me. Of course. It always came back to this.

“Zara—”

“No.” Her voice cracked for the first time, the perfect facade splintering. Tears glistened in her eyes. “You don’t get to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you don’t know.” Her breathing turned jagged. “You took everything.”

The accusation landed like a fresh wound. “Not this again.”

“It is this again!” she screamed. I flinched as the sound tore through the room. Her chest heaved, eyes wild with years of buried pain. “You took Dad. You are his Daughter not me.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is!” Her voice broke. “You got Aaron. You got the baby. You got the future.” A tear carved down her cheek. “And what did I get?”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. For the first time, I saw it clearly—how  lonely she had become. The desperation. The aching void.

“Zara…” I whispered.

“Don’t.” Her eyes hardened again. She pointed at the door. “You know what would’ve fixed everything? If you had just left Aaron alone.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

The realization hit like ice water. This wasn’t really about the baby, the scandal, or the affair. It was still about Aaron. Always Aaron.

“I loved him,” she said, voice shattering completely.

“I know.”

“No. You don’t.” Fresh tears streamed down her face as she pointed at Kendrick. “I would’ve given anything for that.”

The words cut deep. A family. A child. A future. Everything she had wanted. Everything she believed I’d stolen.

Guilt twisted inside me for a heartbeat—until memories of the last three months flooded back: the lies, the terror, the kidnapping.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You made these choices. You lied. You manipulated everyone. You kidnapped my son. And somehow this is still my fault?”

Zara had no answer. The room fell deathly quiet.

Then—a floorboard creaked upstairs.

My heart stopped.

Aaron.

Zara’s head snapped up. Her body went rigid as her gaze flicked to the security monitor on the nearby desk. The screen showed a dark hallway—and Aaron moving through it, fast and silent.

Her face drained of color, then flooded with rage. Pure, unhinged rage.

“No,” she snarled.

Before I could react, she lunged toward the crib. My blood turned to ice.

“Zara!”

She snatched Kendrick up. He woke instantly, his terrified screams piercing the air. She backed toward the hallway, clutching him tightly, her whole body shaking with sobs.

The monitor kept playing. Aaron was getting closer.

This wasn’t part of her plan anymore. She had lost control.

And desperate people were the most dangerous.

Kendrick’s cries grew louder, heartbreaking. Zara’s grip tightened as she stared straight at me, eyes wild and unrecognizable.

Her voice dropped to a broken whisper that froze the blood in my veins.

“If I can’t have him…”

“No—”

“…then neither can you.”