Chapter 5 Suspicions of Doom
The first time Adrian Blackmoor saw his son in motion, he understood something vital and deeply inconvenient.
The boy did not move like a stranger.
Adrian stood across the street from Elliot’s school, hands in the pockets of his tailored coat, posture relaxed enough to pass as another anonymous parent waiting for dismissal. The illusion was imperfect—men like him didn’t blend easily—but the sunglasses helped, and Marcus had chosen the position carefully. A bakery on the corner. Afternoon foot traffic. Controlled chaos.
“Dismissal in three minutes,” Marcus murmured through the earpiece.
Adrian didn’t respond.
He watched.
Children poured through the doors in uneven clusters, backpacks bouncing, voices sharp and unguarded. Parents leaned down, reached out, smiled. Adrian’s gaze tracked automatically, cataloguing exits, blind spots, movement patterns.
Then he saw him.
Elliot came out holding a paper star in one hand, his other hand gripping Lila’s as though it anchored him. He was smaller than Adrian had imagined. Thinner. But there was a gravity to him—an alertness in the way his eyes scanned the street, the way his shoulders stayed squared even while walking.
Mine, the instinct whispered again.
It was not joy. Not tenderness.
It was recognition.
The boy paused suddenly, turning his head slightly, as though he’d sensed something. His gaze drifted across the street, past the bakery, lingering for half a second too long.
Adrian’s chest tightened.
Elliot frowned—not afraid, just thoughtful—then tugged gently on Lila’s hand and said something she couldn’t hear. Lila leaned down, listened, then followed his gaze.
Their eyes met.
Even through distance and glass and the dark lenses shielding his own, Adrian felt the moment lock into place. Lila stiffened visibly, her posture changing, protective instinct flaring so sharply it was almost visible.
She knew.
Adrian didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
He let her see him.
Her face went pale. Not shocked—but braced. As if this wasn’t the moment she feared most, but the one she had always known was coming.
She turned slightly, positioning herself between him and Elliot without touching the boy. It was subtle. Unconscious. Maternal.
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“She sees you,” Marcus said quietly.
“Yes,” Adrian replied.
“Should I pull us back?”
“No.”
Lila didn’t stare long. She rarely did anything dramatic. After a moment, she looked away, guiding Elliot down the street, her hand firm but gentle at his back.
They didn’t run.
That, more than anything else, unsettled Adrian.
Lila didn’t breathe properly until they were home.
She locked the door behind them, slid the chain into place, then rested her forehead briefly against the cool wood. Elliot kicked off his shoes and dropped his backpack by the door.
“Mom,” he said. “That man.”
Her heart stumbled.
“What man?”
“The one across the street,” Elliot said. “With the sunglasses.”
She turned slowly.
“You saw him?”
Elliot nodded. “He was looking at me.”
Lila crouched down, meeting his eyes. “Did he say anything to you?”
“No.”
“Did he try to come closer?”
Elliot shook his head. “He looked sad.”
The word hit her harder than she expected.
Sad.
She swallowed. “You don’t know him.”
“I know,” Elliot said calmly. “But he looks like me.”
There it was again. That quiet certainty.
Lila pulled him into her arms, holding him tighter than necessary. “If you ever see someone watching you,” she said carefully, “you tell me. Always.”
“I will.”
She kissed his hair and forced herself to let go. “Go wash your hands.”
He padded off, humming softly.
Lila stood alone in the small living room, adrenaline still crackling beneath her skin. He had come himself. Not lawyers. Not messages.
Him.
She pulled out her phone and opened the timeline document, adding a new entry.
Day 6 — Visual confirmation. Outside school.
Her hands trembled as she typed.
That evening, Helen Bennett listened in silence as Lila recounted the encounter.
“He was across the street,” Lila said, pacing the length of Helen’s office. “Watching us. Not hiding.”
Helen steepled her fingers. “Did he approach?”
“No.”
“Did he speak to the child?”
“No.”
“Then legally,” Helen said, “he hasn’t crossed a line.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No,” Helen agreed. “It makes it strategic.”
Lila stopped pacing. “What does that mean?”
“It means he’s testing you,” Helen said. “Seeing how you react. Seeing if fear will make you reckless.”
“And if it does?”
“Then he wins.”
Lila’s hands curled into fists. “He doesn’t get to intimidate us.”
Helen’s gaze was steady. “Then don’t let him.”
Silence stretched between them.
“There’s something else,” Lila said finally. “Someone warned me before this started. Said I should have stayed gone.”
Helen’s expression sharpened. “Who?”
“I don’t know,” Lila admitted. “A man. He knew about Elliot. About Adrian.”
Helen leaned back. “That suggests internal knowledge.”
“Inside Adrian’s world?”
“Or adjacent to it,” Helen said. “Which means this may be bigger than a custody dispute.”
Lila’s chest tightened. “How much bigger?”
Helen didn’t answer immediately.
“Big enough,” she said at last, “that we need to think about contingency.”
“What kind of contingency?”
“Relocation,” Helen said bluntly. “If this escalates.”
Lila shook her head. “I won’t uproot Elliot again.”
“Then you need leverage,” Helen replied. “Something that forces Blackmoor to slow down.”
Lila laughed bitterly. “What could possibly slow him down?”
Helen’s eyes narrowed. “The truth.”
Adrian didn’t speak until they were back in the car.
Marcus drove in silence, hands steady on the wheel.
“She didn’t run,” Marcus said finally.
“No,” Adrian replied.
“She didn’t panic.”
“No.”
“And she put herself between you and the boy.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. “I noticed.”
Marcus glanced at him. “That’s not the behavior of someone hiding a child for malicious reasons.”
Adrian’s gaze flicked toward the window. “Intent doesn’t negate outcome.”
“Sometimes it explains it.”
Adrian said nothing.
Marcus hesitated. “You could have approached her. Introduced yourself.”
“And done what?” Adrian asked quietly. “Smiled? Explained five years of absence in a school pickup line?”
Marcus didn’t answer.
“Access,” Adrian continued, more to himself than to Marcus, “requires structure.”
“And humanity,” Marcus said carefully.
Adrian turned sharply. “Don’t.”
Marcus held his gaze. “Sir, with respect—if you treat this like a hostile acquisition, you will lose.”
Adrian’s mouth curved faintly. “I don’t lose.”
Marcus didn’t look convinced.
That night, Lila dreamed of glass.
Walls rising around her, transparent but impenetrable. Elliot stood on the other side, reaching for her, his small hand pressing against the barrier. A man’s shadow loomed behind him, indistinct but immense.
She woke with a gasp, heart racing.
The phone on her nightstand buzzed.
A message.
He’s closer than you think.
She sat up, pulse roaring.
Another message followed.
And not everyone watching you works for him.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
Then who do you work for? she typed.
The reply took longer this time.
For the truth.
Lila stared at the words, unease curling low in her stomach.
Somewhere across the city, Adrian Blackmoor stood alone in the dark, the image of a small boy with familiar eyes burned into his mind.
For the first time in years, control felt elusive.
And for the first time, he suspected that the thing he wanted most was also the thing that could destroy him.