Chapter 1 - GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SON
“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SON RIGHT NOW!”
Sarah Mitchell’s scream cut through the hotel ballroom lobby like a gunshot.
Every head turned.
A glass shattered somewhere near the bar.
A waiter froze with a tray in his hands.
And in the middle of the polished marble floor, twelve-year-old Owen Mitchell was lying on his side, one crutch several feet away from him.
Above him stood Richard Caldwell.
Tall. Expensive suit. Silver watch. Perfect hair.
And absolutely no shame on his face.
Sarah shoved through the crowd.
“Owen!”
She dropped to her knees beside her son.
His face was white.
His lips were shaking.
“Mom…”
Sarah touched his shoulder carefully.
“Are you hurt?”
“My leg.”
Her stomach dropped.
Owen had spent eight months learning how to walk again after a car accident. Eight months of surgeries, physical therapy, sleepless nights, and pain that no twelve-year-old should ever have to understand.
And now some stranger had knocked him to the floor.
Sarah looked up at Richard.
“What did you do?”
Richard adjusted his jacket.
“He was in my way.”
Sarah stared at him.
“What?”
“I said he was blocking the hallway, so I moved him.”
“You kicked a child on crutches.”
Richard rolled his eyes.
“I nudged him.”
“You kicked him!”
“Maybe teach your kid not to stand in the middle of a crowded room.”
Owen’s voice cracked.
“Mom…”
Sarah looked down.
“He took my crutch away.”
The crowd went silent.
Sarah slowly turned back toward Richard.
“You took his crutch?”
Richard smirked.
“He kept swinging it around.”
“I was trying to move,” Owen said.
Richard shrugged.
“Well, you weren’t moving fast enough.”
Sarah stood.
She was only five-foot-five, wearing a simple navy dress and flat shoes.
Richard was nearly a foot taller.
She didn’t care.
“You will regret touching my boy for the rest of your life.”
Richard laughed.
Not nervously.
Not awkwardly.
He actually laughed.
Then he leaned closer.
“Lady, do you have any idea who I am?”
“No.”
“I practically own this entire hall.”
Sarah stepped between him and Owen.
“I don’t care if you own the whole building.”
His smile disappeared.
“You should.”
“Why?”
“Because people who disrespect me tend to lose things.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes.
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s advice.”
Suddenly Richard grabbed her wrist.
Hard.
“You just ruined your life touching me.”
Sarah looked down at his hand.
Then back into his eyes.
“Take your hand off me.”
He tightened his grip.
And that was when a woman’s voice thundered from the staircase behind them.
“What the hell is going on in my hall?”
Everyone turned.
An elderly woman stood at the top of the stairs.
Silver hair.
Black dress.
Diamond earrings.
And a face that suddenly made Richard go pale.
Sarah didn’t know who she was.
But Richard clearly did.
“Eleanor…” he whispered.
The woman’s eyes moved from Richard’s hand around Sarah’s wrist…
to Owen on the floor.
Her face hardened.
“Richard,” she said quietly.
May you like
“Why is there a child on my floor?”
And for the first time all night, Richard Caldwell had nothing to say.
