Chapter 2

JENSEN POV: The reception was held on the sprawling lawn of the Montgomery estate. I had one goal: find a quiet corner for Zoe, then leave as quickly as possible. Well-dressed guests dotted the manicured grounds, their hushed conversations and sideways glances following me like a spotlight. I saw them across the lawn. Jared, his mother Eleanor, and standing right beside them, Crystal and her young son, Aiden. They looked like the real family. Eleanor's gaze met mine for a fraction of a second. It was the same look she always gave me, as if I were a piece of furniture she'd inherited and deeply disliked. I found an empty bench away from the main throng and pulled a small sketchbook and colored pencils from my purse. "Here, sweetie. Why don't you draw for a bit?" Zoe took them without a word, her small fingers curling around a pencil. She began to draw the back of a tall, blond man and a smaller, brown-haired woman, a vast, empty space between them. My heart ached. A blur of motion. A small boy, about seven, with a face full of unearned malice, charged toward us. Aiden Sellers. He snatched the sketchbook from Zoe's lap. "Mute!" he taunted, holding it high above her head. "You're a mute! Is your mom a useless mute, too?" Zoe's eyes widened in terror. Her body started to tremble as she reached for her drawing, but Aiden was taller. She couldn't get it back. Rage, white-hot and pure, surged through me. I was on my feet in an instant, snatching the sketchbook from his hand. My voice was ice. "Aiden. Apologize to her. Now." He looked startled for a second, then his face crumpled. A theatrical wail erupted as he threw himself to the ground. "She hit me! The mute's mom hit me!" Crystal materialized at his side like a storm cloud. She scooped him up, her face a mask of maternal fury directed at me. "Jensen! How could you lay a hand on a child?" I let out a short, sharp laugh. "I didn't touch him. He stole Zoe's sketchbook and called her a mute." Crystal clutched Aiden tighter, tears already streaming down her perfect face. "Aiden was just trying to play with his sister... he doesn't understand Zoe's condition... You're being too sensitive, Jensen." The commotion drew Jared and Eleanor over, their arrival parting the sea of guests. Jared's face was a thunderhead. He didn't even glance at Zoe, who was hiding behind my legs. His fury was aimed solely at me. "Jensen! What the hell are you doing? Making a scene in front of everyone? Is this how you behave?" I stared at him, incredulous. "Jared, didn't you hear me? Aiden bullied Zoe." "He's a child!" Jared snapped. "Zoe's condition... you should be watching her more carefully, not causing trouble!" Hiding in his mother's arms, Aiden shot me a triumphant smirk. He mouthed the word again. Mute. Crystal spoke, her voice a soft, placating murmur. "Jared, don't be angry with Jensen. She's probably just upset... Aiden, honey, tell Daddy you're okay." The boy's cry immediately took on a pitiful tone. "Daddy! She was so mean!" The word “Daddy” detonated in the quiet afternoon air. Every eye swiveled from me to Jared. The atmosphere thickened with unspoken meaning. Jared's expression flickered, but he didn't correct the boy. Instead, he knelt down, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. "It's okay, big guy. Men don't cry." He ruffled Aiden's hair. That single, gentle touch shattered what was left of my composure. My husband, after publicly berating me, was comforting the boy who had tormented my daughter. The boy who had just called him “Dad.” I was a joke. A complete and utter fool. Eleanor stepped forward, her eyes like chips of ice. She addressed her son. "Jared, take Crystal and the boy to the west lounge. Don't let unrelated people disrupt the guests." Unrelated people. She meant me. Jared nodded, not even gracing me with a final look. He turned and led Crystal and Aiden away, a perfect portrait of a happy family. I was left standing alone, the target of a hundred pairs of eyes and the frenzied clicks of reporters' cameras, which had captured every second of my public humiliation. I looked down. Zoe had buried her face in my dress, her small shoulders shaking with silent sobs. A hand squeezed my heart, tight and brutal. I couldn't breathe. Protect my daughter. The thought was clearer than anything had been all day. In this family, no one would protect her. Only me. I knelt and wrapped my arms around her trembling body. "It's okay, baby," I whispered, my voice raw but firm. "We're going home. Mommy's taking you home."