Chapter 4

Naturally, I did not make good on the three-day deadline Samuel had imposed on me. My failing to turn up brought Samuel to my front yard gate again. Thrilled by Samuel's visit, Lucas circled him like he was a maypole and put his little hand in Samuel's, which hung by his side. He then turned and shouted at me excitedly, "Mommy, look! I'm finally holding hands with Daddy!" My eyes prickled with tears, but I forced a smile at Lucas anyway. For the last few years, Samuel had always believed that Lucas was Kendall's son. Disgusted by this, he refused to have anything to do with Lucas and wouldn't even spare the boy a glance. Although I had run a DNA test and proved that Lucas was Samuel's biological son, Samuel didn't buy it. He thought that I had paid to have the test results fabricated. That night onward, I had lost all of Samuel's trust. I suggested we divorce. I, too, wished to end our twisted relationship. But Samuel only pinned me with a vicious stare and seethed, "Don't forget that you owe me for the rest of your life, Calla. I told you that this grudge between us will last a lifetime! You want a divorce? Don't even think about it!" He'd brought home countless women and gotten intimate with them before me. If I so much as picked a fight with him, he'd remind me that I was filthy and tainted after sleeping with Kendall. This savage cycle continued until Francine returned from abroad. Since then, Samuel cut off all contact with other women and openly dated Francine. Even Samuel's business partners addressed her as "Mrs. Hawthorne". I snapped out of my thoughts and watched Samuel call me on his phone while standing by the gate. The mechanical voice on the other end of the line informed him that the number he had dialed did not exist. His brows furrowed, and he tapped on my Instagram page. He pulled up our chat, his gaze lingering on the text he'd sent me three days ago, urging me to show up and donate my bone marrow to Francine. I did not reply to him, of course. Samuel tapped his phone screen to view my photos and saw the picture I'd posted four years ago. His finger stilled above it. It was a candid shot I'd sneakily taken of him sitting on the couch with two-year-old Lucas clutching his arm and resting his small head on Samuel's shoulder. It had been such an idyllic moment that I didn't hesitate to capture it on camera. But a second later, Samuel shoved Lucas away in disgust. He tapped into the photo and zoomed in. After gazing upon it for a while, he returned to our chat and texted me: "You asked for this, Calla. The three-day deadline is up. From now on, I won't pay you a dime for your upkeep." When a long time passed and I still hadn't responded, he raised his leg and landed a hard kick on the gate. Lucas, who had been happily circling Samuel earlier, froze and shuddered at Samuel's violent outburst. His lips quivered, and he burst into tears as he bolted into my embrace. "Mommy, why did Daddy do that? I'm scared…" I wrapped my arms around Lucas and comforted him, "Don't be scared, Lucas. Daddy can't hurt you anymore. Look over there—butterflies! Would you like to go and play with the pretty butterflies for a while?" I smoothly distracted Lucas. He glanced over at the few butterflies fluttering in the breeze and broke into a grin. He quickly wiped his tears and hurtled toward the butterflies. Meanwhile, Samuel grew even more agitated after kicking the gate a few more times. He rubbed his temples frustratedly, then pulled out his phone to make a call. "Hi, is this the locksmith?"