Chapter 52 A NEW WOMAN

Chapter 52 A NEW WOMAN

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
KANE’S POV

Micky had run from me like I was the monster under her bed. Her small feet slapped against the marble floor, disappearing down the hallway before I could catch her. I chased anyway, ignoring the fresh pull in my side and back where the stitches strained, until I found her curled in the corner of her playroom, knees to her chest, face buried in the stuffed rabbit toy she loved

I stopped in the doorway. My breath came hard. Not from the run. From the look she gave me when she lifted her head, wide eyes, red cheeks, lips trembling. She didn’t run to me. She just stared like she was trying to decide if I was still Daddy or something else entirely.

“Micky,” I said, softer than I meant to. My voice cracked on the edges. “Baby, come here.”

She shook her head once. Small. Stubborn.
I sank to my knees right there on the rug. The wound burned like hell, but pain was nothing compared to the hole opening in my chest. I crawled the last few feet, slow, careful, until I was close enough to touch her knee.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to yell. I was scared.”

She sniffed. “You hurt Mummy.”

The word hit like a blade between the ribs. Mummy. Not Samantha. Mummy.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “She’s not…”

“I know,” Micky cut in, voice tiny but sure. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“She’s not my real mummy. Real mummy’s in heaven with the angels. Nanny told me. You told me too. A long time ago.”

Her words landed heavier than any punch I’d ever taken. She knew. She’d always known. And still…

“But I want her anyway,” she said, eyes filling again. “Samantha makes me feel like I have a mummy. She sings to me. She lets me braid her hair. She doesn’t get mad when I tell her stuff. She… she stays.”

My hands shook. I reached for her slowly, palm up, waiting.

Micky looked at my hand for a long second.

Then she crawled forward and climbed into my lap like she used to when she was smaller. Her arms wrapped around my neck. Her face pressed into my shoulder. I felt the wet heat of her tears soak through my shirt.

“I don’t want her to go away,” she mumbled. “Please don’t make her go away, Daddy.”

I closed my eyes. Tight. The room spun.
“I won’t,” I lied. Because I already had. I’d dragged Samantha to the basement myself. I’d told Abel to make sure she felt every second of it. All because she’d dared to step into the space Sally left empty.

Micky’s breathing evened out against my neck. She was still crying, but softer now. Exhausted. I rocked her.

“I love you,” I said into her hair. “More than anything.”

She nodded against me. “I love you too. But I love Samantha too.”

I carried her to bed. Tucked her in. Kissed her forehead. She fell asleep after taking the juice Nanny mixed for her, clutching the rabbit, one small hand reaching toward the empty side of the mattress like she expected someone to hold it.

I stayed until her breathing went deep and steady.
Then I walked out, closed the door softly, and leaned against the wall in the hallway. My legs gave out. I slid down until I was sitting on the cold floor, head back, staring at the ceiling.

That’s when my phone buzzed.
Mum.
I stared at the screen until it stopped ringing. Then it started again. Persistent. Like always.
I answered on the fourth ring.
“What.”

“Not even hello?” Her voice was sharp, polished, the same tone she used when she wanted something.
“I’m busy.”

“You’re always busy, Kane. That’s why I’m coming tomorrow. We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do. You think you can keep bleeding all over this city and no one will notice? You need stability. You need a wife.”
The word wife landed like acid.

“I’m not marrying anyone.”

“You say that every time. But Micky….”

“Don’t.” My voice dropped low. Dangerous. “Don’t use her name.”

Silence stretched. Then she sighed, the long-suffering sigh she’d perfected over years.

“I’m bringing someone. Her name is Elena Voss. Old family. Clean record. No baggage. She understands our world. She’s good with children. Micky needs…”
“I said no.”
“You’re not thinking straight. You’re still grieving Sally…”
“Don’t say her name.” The words came out colder than I meant. “You don’t get to say her name.”

Another pause.

“I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. With Elena. You can ignore me all you want, but you can’t ignore what’s coming. The council won’t let you keep defying them. And that… thing you have locked in your house? The mutate? She’s a liability. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it.”
My grip on the phone turned my knuckles white.

“Stay out of my house,” I said quietly. “Stay out of my life.”
“I’m your mother, Kane.”
“You stopped being that the day you left Sally alone.”
Click.

I ended the call before she could answer.
The hallway felt smaller. The air thicker.
I pressed the heel of my hand against my eyes until spots danced behind my lids.
Micky wanted Samantha.
Micky knew she wasn’t Sally.
And still wanted her.

My mother was coming with a replacement bride like Sally had never existed.
And downstairs, in the dark, Samantha was tied to a chair because I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else filling the space my wife left behind.

I stood up slowly. The wound pulled. I ignored it.
Tomorrow my mother would walk through that gate with a woman who wasn’t bleeding, wasn’t branded, wasn’t broken.

And I already knew I’d hate her on sight.
Because no matter how much I told myself Samantha was nothing, just property, just a body, just temporary, my daughter had already claimed her.
And some part of me, small, buried, furious, had started to do the same.