Chapter 235

Nina blocked and deleted Dennis's account with practiced efficiency. No hesitation whatsoever.

Dennis stood frozen, phone in hand, like he'd been struck by lightning.

He was screwed. His only witness hadn't just refused to vouch for him—she'd pegged him as an accomplice to arson and assault. He can’t explain himself now no matter what.

Slowly, he looked up at Frederick on the sofa.

Frederick had risen to his feet at some point and was watching him with ice-cold eyes. Though he hadn't caught Nina's exact words, Dennis's rapidly shifting expressions had told him enough.

"Your witness doesn't seem very cooperative." Frederick's tone was eerily calm.

Dennis's legs gave out. He crumpled onto the carpet, looking up at Frederick with raw desperation. "Frederick! I'm telling you—I'm innocent!"

Against all expectation, Frederick didn't explode.

The shop vandalism. The harassment. The arson. Premature labor. Nina's words circled in Frederick's mind like vultures. He'd thought she left out of spite. Turns out she'd been running for her life. His attempts to track her down had only pushed her deeper into hiding.

Who wanted her dead wasn't hard to figure out. Someone had known Beatrice was alive before he did.

No wonder Beatrice had lied to him. No wonder she'd gone into hiding.

A boulder seemed to lodge in Frederick's chest, making it impossible to breathe. He waved dismissively, signaling Dennis to get lost.

Dennis practically crawled out, grateful to escape with his life.

The cavernous living room held only Frederick now. He picked up the fabric tiger, fingers tracing the rough stitching and dried stains over and over.

He began to examine himself. From their wedding to her departure—what had he given her? A gilded cage. A marriage everyone envied. And suffocating control that shadowed her every move.

He'd called it protection. To her, it had been shackles.

The next day, Liam's report landed on Frederick's desk.

"Mr. Stuart, we found it. Shawn purchased a cottage with a yard in West Ridge Hills through a shell company. The timeline matches Ms. Jennings's hospital discharge."

Their nationwide dragnet had finally caught a thread—through Shawn.

Frederick stared at the red pin on the map for a long time without speaking. He knew where she was now.

But then what? Storm in there and drag her back by force? And watch her vanish from his life again—this time for good?

He didn't dare. For the first time in his twenty-nine years, Frederick tasted what it meant to be afraid. He was terrified that getting close to her again might be the final straw that broke her completely.

After a long silence, he lifted his head. The frenzy and violence in his eyes had receded, replaced by a bottomless calm.

"Help me prepare some things," he told Liam. "Also, buy the house next to hers."

Three days later.

Deep in West Ridge Hills, the air was crisp enough to cleanse your lungs.

Beatrice sat in the yard with Ray, soaking up the sunshine. The little guy had just finished feeding and was yawning contentedly, his wide eyes taking in the world with curiosity.

The house next door, vacant for ages, had suddenly come to life in the past couple of days. A moving truck had pulled up, workers shuttling ordinary furniture in and out.

Nina had spent ages craning her neck for a better view before coming back to whisper, "Bella, looks like we've got new neighbors."

Beatrice hummed acknowledgment but didn't give it much thought. This place was remote. Anyone moving out here probably wanted peace and quiet, too.

That afternoon, she was on the porch changing Ray's diaper when she heard a soft sound at the gate. She looked up to find a middle-aged stranger at the entrance, holding a fruit basket, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

The man looked to be in his forties or fifties, wearing a worn jacket. Salt-and-pepper hair, thick black-framed glasses, an ordinary face marked by years of weathering. His posture was slightly hunched, and he walked with a limp, as if his legs troubled him.

"Hello." The man spoke first, his voice gentle and raspy. "I just moved in next door. Name's David Johnson. Just a little welcome gift—nothing fancy."

Beatrice stood with the baby, nodding politely. "Hello, Mr. Johnson. You didn't have to do that."

David's gaze fell on Ray in her arms and froze. He stared at the tiny, soft baby waving his chubby little fists, and something shifted in his eyes. A complex mix of shock, overwhelming joy, heartache, and infinite tenderness—all of it threatening to spill through those thick lenses.

Sensing his reaction, Beatrice felt a flicker of wariness and instinctively pulled the baby closer.

David seemed to realize he was staring, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. He stood transfixed, taking in the child's features, the rise and fall of his breathing.

Searing heat flooded his eyes. He couldn't control it—didn't even try. Two streams of tears slid down his lined face without warning.

Beatrice was completely stunned. A neighbor she'd just met was crying over her baby?

"Mr. Johnson, are you..."

David snapped back to awareness, turning away in a flustered panic, looking utterly lost. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... I lost it for a second." His voice came out thick and choked, his back still turned. "I just... seeing the baby reminded me of... of some things."

He took a deep breath, as if it required every ounce of strength he had to pull himself together. He turned back slowly, forcing a smile that looked worse than crying, his eyes rimmed red.

"When I was younger... I had a son, too." He looked at Ray, his voice barely a rasp. "About your baby's age... He died."

Beatrice's heart clenched. So that's what it was.

Looking at this grief-stricken David, her wariness melted into sympathy and sorrow. Losing a child—for any father, it was an unbearable weight to carry.

She held Ray closer, her voice softening. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."

"It's alright." David waved his hands, forcing another smile. "Seeing such a healthy, beautiful baby... I'm happy for you."

He set the fruit basket on the stone bench by the gate, not venturing any closer, as if afraid to disturb this small sanctuary. "If you ever need anything while you're living here, don't hesitate to ask."

After speaking, as if worried his grief might taint this peaceful place, he gave Beatrice an apologetic smile before turning and limping back toward his house.

Beatrice held Ray, watching his unsteady retreat, emotions churning inside her. There was a heaviness about David, like life had ground him down—a stark contrast to his forced lightness.

She looked down at Ray, his wide eyes gazing up at her, and felt something tender stir deep inside.

"Mr. Johnson." She suddenly called out to him.

David stopped and turned back, a question in his eyes.

Beatrice took a couple of steps forward with the baby, stopping at the gate. Her voice was soft. "Would you like to... hold him?"

David went completely still. He looked at Beatrice, then at the tiny baby in her arms, and behind those lenses, his eyes filled with disbelieving light.

He seemed about to refuse—his lips moved—but no words came.

Seeing both his longing and his hesitation, Beatrice shifted the baby forward slightly, her tone growing gentler. "He's very well-behaved. Just fed, so he won't fuss."

That encouragement finally gave him courage. He rubbed his rough hands together, as if trying to scrub away all the years of hardship, before carefully stepping forward.

He extended his arms, the posture stiff as a statue. Beatrice could feel his arms trembling slightly.

She gently settled Ray's soft little body into his embrace.

The moment he made contact with the baby, his body jolted.

He was actually Frederick, but he'd taken the name David Johnson to get close to Beatrice.

The weight in his arms felt impossibly light yet impossibly heavy—like the entire world had settled onto his forearms. He caught the faint milky scent of the baby, so clean, so alive.

This was his son. The reality he'd dreamed of countless times but never dared to touch.

All his calculated composure, all his ruthless decisiveness—it evaporated in an instant. Holding this tiny life, he didn't know what to do with his hands or feet. His entire body went rigid as a board.

Ray probably found the stiff embrace uncomfortable. His little mouth turned down, and he let out a couple of aggrieved whimpers.

Frederick panicked immediately, his arms going even stiffer.