Evelyn struggled fiercely against the bodyguard's unyielding hold, her breath ragged and her pulse hammering in her chest. Her fingers clawed at his arm, desperate for any way to break free. "Let me go!" she cried, voice trembling. "Logan! Logan!"
But her son was already being led up the grand staircase, his small, fragile form looking even smaller under the opulent, towering chandelier overhead. Logan's gaze locked on hers for a fleeting second, fear and confusion mingling in his wide eyes. It was a look she'd seen too many times since her husband's death, this new, terrifying world of adults and power games was not meant for a child like him.
Logan's hand slipped from hers as the bodyguard held her back, and Evelyn's heart sank. The opulent foyer around her felt cold and menacing, as though even the marble floors and gilded walls were complicit in this awful scheme. Her father-in-law, the chairman, stood at the top of the staircase, watching it all unfold, his expression as unmoved as stone.
Logan was led to him, his small steps hesitant but brave, his face tight with determination. He approached his grandfather and spoke with a trembling voice, but with words as clear as he could muster. "I did as promised," he whispered, trying to be brave. "You won't do anything to my mommy, right?"
The chairman's face softened for a brief moment, and he nodded curtly. "Yes," he replied, voice low. "I won't."
Down below, Evelyn's struggle weakened as she watched this exchange, dread flooding her every vein. As she was forcibly escorted to the waiting car, she twisted to face the man holding her and spat, "I'm taking my son. Move."
The guard didn't flinch. His eyes were hard as he replied, "Logan will get hurt too if you resist."
Evelyn's face paled. The ground beneath her seemed to lurch, her legs weakening as his words echoed in her mind. The chairman had always been ruthless, he get every little things he want. This was the same man who had driven her late husband, James, into untimely death just coming to visit him. In the end, he hadn't survived, and Evelyn knew that Logan was now all she had left. Evelyn Ruby regretted why she even made a trip here in the firs place.
She fell silent, tears slipping silently down her cheeks as she was pushed into the car, her hands trembling as she clutched the picture of Logan she always kept in her bag. As the car pulled away, Evelyn's eyes never left the mansion, even as it shrank into the distance, carrying her heart and her son with it.
Evenly Ruby took a flight home, because she had no power to stand and she doesn't want Logan to be hurt more. The plane roared to life, carrying Evelyn away from her son with every passing second. She clutched the picture of Logan tighter against her chest, her mind swirling with memories. Her husband, her beautiful boy, the life they had once shared, it felt like it was all slipping through her fingers.
Evelyn's hands trembled as she traced the outline of Logan's face in the photograph. "My baby," she whispered, voice barely audible over the hum of the engines. Tears fell freely as she remembered James, his warm smile and the gentle way he used to hold Logan, filling their home with laughter.
But now, he was gone, and Logan was being taken from her, too. A new wave of grief hit her, and she felt like she was drowning in it. The other passengers occasionally glanced her way, but Evelyn was oblivious to them all, lost in her sorrow.
In the silence, she made a vow. If she could not be with Logan, she would find a way to keep him close in another form.
In a lavish but coldly decorated room, Logan sat on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. Outside, the thunder rumbled, and flashes of lightning briefly illuminated his face, highlighting his tear-streaked cheeks. He covered his ears tightly, shaking with every crash of thunder. "Mommy," he whimpered, "I'm scared. Mommy."
A gentle knock came from the door, and a maid's voice floated through, laced with genuine concern. "Young Master Logan, are you alright? Should I come in?"
Logan's response was a muffled, "Don't come in! I don't want anyone!" His small voice was broken and fragile, full of the anguish and loneliness he couldn't understand. The maid lingered for a moment, her heart aching for the boy, before retreating, leaving him alone with his fear.
Logan buried his face in his knees, his tiny form trembling, the warmth and safety he had once known now replaced by cold walls and distant voices. In that room, he felt more alone than ever, yearning for the comfort of his mother's embrace.
The regret in Logan's heart grew heavier with each rumble of thunder. If only he had never listened to his grandpa and held his mum tight. I wish he had told his mom earlier how much he had miss her and wanted to be her. Now, all alone in the dim, empty room, every flash of lightning made the shadows stretch and leap, filling him with a new wave of fear. His small hands wrapped around his knees, squeezing tighter as he buried his head, wishing his mum were there. She was always his safe place, especially when storms swept through the night, rattling windows and casting eerie shadows on the walls.
She would sit with him, wrapping her warm arms around him as they watched the rain dance against the glass. Her voice would be soft and steady, telling him stories or humming his favorite lullabies until the storm outside felt less terrifying. But tonight, the storm roared louder without her, and the room felt colder and emptier. Logan's cries grew louder, hoping somehow they'd reach her, hoping she would magically appear to hold him just one more time. But all he had were his memories, mingling with the thunder, leaving him feeling smaller and lonelier than ever.