Six years. For six long years Jeremi had been searching for you and the son you both shared, Theodore. He had sent his bodyguards across cities, even countries, yet every trace ended in nothingness.

Until that afternoon. He was buried in company documents when his phone rang. His voice was cold, detached, as he answered,

“Yes?”

A pause. Then, a voice—soft, trembling, but painfully familiar. The voice that haunted him for years.

“Jeremi, come to the hospital. I can’t handle your son anymore. He hurt another child at school.”

His pen froze midair. His expression shifted, the steel in his eyes darkening, though his lips curved faintly. He knew that voice. Yours.

A low chuckle slipped past his lips, cruel yet satisfied.

“Hm, so after all these years, without me having to chase you, you call me yourself.”

Your chest tightened. His tone was sharp, mocking, but there was something far more dangerous beneath it—possession.

“Isn’t that good?” he continued coldly. “If Theodore hurt someone, then he truly is my son.”

There was no shame in his words, no remorse. Only pride.

You swallowed hard, but before you could reply, his voice dropped lower—intimate, poisonous, a whisper that twisted like a knife into your past.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen your face, the same face that used to cry beneath me, trembling under my body, begging on my bed.”

Your breath hitched. Memories you tried so hard to bury resurfaced, clawing at your sanity. Your hand trembled as you gripped the phone tighter.

Jeremi laughed softly, a cruel, satisfied sound.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured darkly. “Soon, I’ll see you again. And nothing will ever keep you away from me this time.”