Chapter 55 55
Blair clocked out with a soft sigh, shrugging her bag onto her shoulder as evening settled over the street.
Her feet ached. Her head ached more.
She stepped outside, the cool air brushing her face, and instinctively looked across the road.
There he was.
“MOMMY!”
Maverick stood at the other end of the street, backpack slightly crooked, waving both hands like she might disappear if he stopped. His smile lit up everything in her chest that had been tight all day.
Blair smiled back immediately, lifting her hand to wave.
“I see you, baby,” she murmured.
She stopped at the curb, waiting for the pedestrian signal. Red.
Cars rushed past, headlights streaking, horns blaring faintly in the distance.
The city never slowed—not for tired mothers, not for children waiting to be picked up.
Maverick bounced on his toes, still waving, then cupped his hands around his mouth.
“Mommy! I missed you!”
Her heart softened painfully.
“I missed you too,” she whispered, even though he couldn’t hear her.
She adjusted her grip on her bag, eyes never leaving him.
Just a few more seconds. Then she’d cross, scoop him up, kiss his hair, pretend the world wasn’t sharp and dangerous.
The light flashed
Still red.
A sudden force wrapped around Blair’s waist.
Before she could scream, before her mind could even catch up—
a car slid between her and Maverick.
Everything happened at once.
A sharp sting at her neck.
A breath stolen from her lungs.
The world tilting violently.
“M—Mave—”
Her voice broke as the street spun. Her fingers clawed uselessly at air as she was lifted, dragged backward.
Across the road, Maverick’s eyes widened.
“Mommy…?”
The dark car’s door opened just enough. Blair’s body went limp as she was shoved inside.
The door slammed.
The car sped off.
The pedestrian light turned green.
“MOMMY!” Maverick screamed.
The sound ripped through the street.
He froze for half a second—because Blair had always told him never to cross alone.
Never.
His small hands trembled at his sides as cars rushed past him. His chest heaved, panic swallowing him whole.
Then he ran.
“Mommy! Wait!”
He stepped off the curb, chasing the disappearing car—
A horn blasted.
“HEY!”
A vehicle swerved hard, tires screeching, missing him by inches. The rush of air knocked him backward onto the pavement.
Maverick fell, scraping his hands, but he didn’t cry.
He scrambled up, tears streaming silently down his cheeks, eyes locked on the road where the car had vanished.
“Mommy…” he whispered, voice breaking.
“You said… I shouldn’t cross…”
The driver of the silver sedan that had swerved slammed his door shut and stormed toward the curb, face flushed with anger.
“Are you crazy?” he snapped, throwing his hands up.
“Do you have any idea what could’ve happened? Where the hell are your parents?”
Maverick flinched.
People had already started gathering—whispers rising, phones lifting.
“I—” his voice shook. “I was just—”
“Just what?” the driver barked. “Running into traffic like that? You could’ve been killed.”
A car door opened behind him.
“Enough.”
The driver turned, irritation ready on his tongue—then froze.
“Sir… I—”
Lucas Brooks’ gaze was cold, and sharp, and utterly uninterested in excuses.
“You almost hit a child,” Lucas said evenly. “Lower your voice.”
The driver swallowed, stepping back immediately. “I didn’t mean—he ran out of nowhere—”
Lucas didn’t look at him again.
He moved past him, kneeling in front of Maverick instead.
The world seemed to hush.
“Come here, kid,” Lucas said gently, holding out his hand.
Maverick stared at him through tears, chest hitching.
People whispered.
“Oh… that’s his dad?”
“So the father’s here and they still let the poor child cross alone?”
“Rich people… always too busy.”
Lucas’ jaw tightened—but he ignored them.
“What happened?” he asked softly, eyes level with Maverick’s.
Maverick sniffed hard, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
“My mommy…” his voice cracked.
“She was right there.” He pointed across the road, then down the street where the car had vanished.
“A bad man grabbed her. A car came. They took her.”
Lucas’ breath stopped.
“When?” he asked, already feeling something cold crawl up his spine.
“Just now,” Maverick sobbed.
“The light wasn’t green yet. She told me never to cross alone. I waited. Then—then they took her.”
Lucas’ hand slowly curled into a fist.
“What did the car look like?” he asked, voice dangerously calm.
“It was dark,” Maverick whispered. “Black. It went fast.”
Maverick’s face crumpled.
“I want my mommy,” he sobbed, the words tearing out of him like they hurt.
“I want my mommy—”
His knees buckled.
Lucas reacted without thinking, pulling the boy against his chest as Maverick cried hard, small fists clutching his suit like it was the only thing holding him together.
The sound did something to him.
It broke straight through.
For a split second, the street disappeared.
He was four again.
Standing in a grand hallway.
His mother crying.
His father’s hand locked painfully around his wrist.
Stop crying.
You’re embarrassing me.
A woman in red lipstick waiting by the door.
Lucas swallowed hard, his chest tightening as Maverick’s cries echoed against his heart.
“Shh… shh…” he murmured, rubbing the boy’s back, though his own throat burned.
“It hurts,” Maverick cried. “She said she’d come back—”
“She will,” Lucas said quickly. Too quickly.
“She will. I promise.”
Maverick shook his head violently. “They took her.”
Lucas closed his eyes for one second.
Think. Now.
He pulled back just enough to look at Maverick, forcing a small smile that felt like glass on his lips.
“Hey,” he said gently.
“Do you know what I think?”
Maverick sniffed, eyes red and swollen.
“I think your mommy ran to get you something.”
Maverick hesitated. “What?”
Lucas nodded, leaning closer, lowering his voice like it was a secret only they shared.
“Ice cream,” he said.
“Your favorite. Lots of it. The kind that melts too fast.”
Maverick blinked. “Ice cream…?”
“Yeah,” Lucas said, brushing a thumb under his eye, wiping a tear.
“She probably saw the light turn red and thought, Let me surprise him.”
Maverick’s sobs slowed, confusion replacing panic.
“She didn’t say—”
“Surprises don’t get announced,” Lucas said softly.
“My mom used to do that too.”
Maverick’s lip trembled. “Really?”
Lucas nodded. “Really.”
The boy leaned back into him, still shaking, but the cries softened into small hiccupping breaths.
“I like chocolate,” Maverick whispered.
Lucas’ chest tightened painfully.
“Me too,” he said.