LIVELY POV

"Night in—ja!" Bubble giggled from his bed, munching on pudding and glued to PJ Masks playing on my phone while I sorted laundry into the wardrobe.

His health's improving with the latest prescriptions, and the surgery's on the horizon. Now that I've got the funds for his treatment, I don't have to rush into a job just yet. I can be with him through this.

"Livy, someone call—in." Bubble stretched the phone toward me, his little fingers sticky with pudding. I saw Sadie's name flash on the screen.

"Finish up so you can take your meds." I encouraged the boy, taking the phone from him. Bubble nodded and focused back on his dessert, bringing another spoonful to his mouth.

Satisfied with his appetite, I answered, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear as I kept working.

"Are you seeing what's on local TV?" Sadie's voice jumped through, skipping the usual pleasantries.

"Sadie, you know where I stand." I sighed, bracing myself. We've been over this countless times. It was done between Aaron and me. I'd taken money from his mom—something that left him showing up on my doorstep, shattered, feeling completely betrayed.

Bubble had asked about Aaron for several nights until he finally stopped, ever since Aaron didn't come back to pick up a page for him to color. I had to fabricate a story about the man he admired, who was supposed to be his father. In honesty, I held no grudges against Aaron; I wished he could make up for lost time by being there for Bubble during this treatment.

He accused me of destroying us when I also dreamed of a home filled with us. But how can I breathe life into this beautiful vision when Cynthia's threat looms over me like a laser sight?
At the cost of Bubble's well-being and my happiness, my parents' lives hung in the balance, and so was Bubble's acceptance by his paternal side. It's one thing for seventeen-year-old Aaron to panic and reject an unborn child, but it's entirely different when the child lives and is six years old, having to experience rejection by his entire family. The way Cynthia spoke about him, dripping with condescension and wanting nothing but harm upon him—what kind of mother would I be if I didn't shield him from the pain of feeling unwanted?

"For the record, I wasn't planning to talk about him, even though I desperately wanted to. He was here with his cousins for the final season tournament yesterday, and he looked utterly miserable. He must care, Livy," she said.

"Sadie," I warned her, stepping out of the room I shared with my son, desperate to hide the sudden sadness that had washed over me.

"Alright, just turn on the TV," she pleaded. I took the last few steps to the remote on the coffee table, tuning in to the local Portland channel.

The screen broadcasting Beaumont had me suspended in shock.

"I am not proud of my behavior a couple of weeks ago. As a businessman and mentor to the new generation, I should not represent violence and dishonesty. What occurred was solely because of intoxication, which has prompted my journey toward sobriety. My actions had nothing to do with Anthony Kelby, the Lake Oswego citizen I physically assaulted. This altercation was instigated by me, and I take full responsibility for my actions. Kelby owed me nothing, contrary to what the newspapers have claimed. My behavior stemmed merely from my poor choices under the influence of alcohol I brought in my flask to the Wallace family event. I extend my sincere apologies to the two families affected by my reaction and the guests present there."

"Wow," I gasped after the reporter appeared on screen following Beaumont's statement.

Anyone who can grasp what has transpired, who Beaumont is, his lines today, and the way his body language now conveys his compliance knows that Beaumont was compelled to make that statement.

"I know, right?" Sadie mumbled on the line.

Dad had taken a three-hundred-thousand-dollar check to Beaumont's residence after I received the funds from Cynthia, but Beaumont was unavailable. The guards assured us they would notify us upon his return from London. Now this had ensued, and there had been no deduction from my account.

My instincts hinted Aaron was connected to the case; I was convinced of it. A wave of weakness crashed against my bones as I took a seat, consumed by thoughts of our last encounter just a couple of days ago.

He hadn't reached out, yet he was frequently online on WhatsApp. I knew this because I couldn't help but stalk him all the time, even though his mother had instructed me against contacting him when we made the deal.

"Livy?" Bubble yelled from the room, jolting me from my reverie.

I sprang upright, rushing to him, hoping he wasn't choking on his food. He was fine, perched on the bed, engrossed in painting the book Aaron had gifted him.

"What is it?" I asked the little boy.

"Who's kno—king? Is—is Mini—goes?" His eyes sparkled with hope, and I felt a pang of guilt for failing to give him his father as I had wanted from the start. I felt immobilized until I heard a series of knocks on the front door, startling me.

"Is—is?" he pressed again.

"No, Bubble. I'll check. Finish your food." My body trembled slightly as I approached the door, bidding goodbye to Sadie and ending the call. When I opened the door, I found Kane waiting. It was past five in the evening, and the daycare had closed for the day. He has added to his daily routine to stop by to check on Bubble after work.

"I wanted to drop off Bubble's nuggets and his costume for tomorrow." He extended a small box and a gift bag from the daycare.

With a grateful smile, I gathered myself. "Thank you, Kane. You should come inside." I opened the door wider, but he gently declined with a shake of his head.

"I need to get home and finish the gardening before sunset. But I'll see Bubble tomorrow."

After closing the door behind him, I returned to Bubble in the room. "Look what Kane brought you."

"Chicen!" he exclaimed, beaming with delight.

"And a superhero cape and mask to celebrate your bravery in battling that pesky cancer."

He giggled at my enthusiasm and stood up, clutching the red cape and mask, until a flicker of sadness crossed his face as he studied the costume in his hands.

"What's wrong?" I asked, setting the nuggets down on the nightstand.

"I'll luk more like Ama—ya than Gekko," he pouted, gazing up at me. "I'm a boy."

"Absolutely." I affectionately ruffled his short hair. "Have you heard of the strongest superhero?"

"Gek—ko is."

"He has a boss—Superman," I noted, watching his eyes widen in surprise.

"Soup—man?"

I nodded with a smile.
"He wears a red cape and sometimes a mask. He once pushed the big wide world all by himself."

"Whoa." His eyes gleamed with intrigue as he kneeled, sitting on his heels, making me chuckle.

"You'll look incredibly handsome," I assured him, smiling at the costume.

Tomorrow, the daycare is throwing an encouragement day for Bubble before his surgery on Monday, and all the kids will bring gifts and uplifting messages for him. He hasn't been to daycare in ages or even left the house since his discharge from the hospital, but we couldn't turn down the heartfelt efforts of the kids and their families who wanted to support him.

A knock came up once more after I had finally convinced Bubble and finished arranging our wardrobe. Considering the time, I wondered if it was one of my parents who might have misplaced their keys, now that they could finally leave one job and return home early for dinner.

When I unlocked the door, my face twisted in shock at the sight of the person standing there, accompanied by one of the suited guards from below my steps.

"Emersyn? What are you doing here?"

"I'm flying back to Virginia tomorrow and wanted to say goodbye. Who knows, maybe next year you won't be around," she said with a bittersweet smile. Her words struck a chord of guilt within me.

With my gaze lowered, I opened the door wide enough for her to come inside.

She stepped into the living area, settling onto the couch, her eyes drifting around as she absorbed the surroundings.

"What can I get you? We have soda and some not-so-classy wine," I offered from the kitchen. Her gaze returned to me, and she requested just water.

I retrieved a bottle of Bubble's water from the pantry, poured half of the bottle's content into a glass, and returned to the living area, placing the water within reach on the coffee table, which her knees were already brushing against.

"Thank you," she smiled, casting an awkward glance my way as she picked up the cup and took a sip. I felt just as awkward, sitting across from her.

"You're welcome."

She set the cup down and intertwined her fingers in her lap. "Actually, part of the reason I'm here is to talk about Aaron," she blurted out.

Great.

"Emersyn, it's over. He and I can't happen," I replied firmly.

"Aunty Cynthia said you never wanted to be part of our family. I refuse to believe you'd trade your values for money. You really like Aaron; I've seen you together. None of my theories make sense. What do you gain from 3 million when you could have so much more by marrying into our family?" She scoffed, disbelief shaking her hands.

Swallowing the knot in my throat, I turned away. "Maybe that's all I want."

"Three million? That's bullshit. Is someone pushing you into this, Liv? You need to tell me. Aaron wouldn't take this lightly, and neither will the family. You've seen how we handled that real estate guy. Now that you're with us, we'll protect you." She took my hand, trying to convince me.

"As you can see, I'm perfectly fine, Emersyn," I lied, gently withdrawing my hands from hers.

Her eyes lingered on me. I could feel her probing gaze as I kept mine anchored on the coffee table.

"No, you're not. Look at yourself." Her tone turned sharp. When I glanced over, her perfectly manicured fingers combing through her sleek hair. "Where's your spirit? Your brilliance? You look so dreary. Aaron's the same. What's the point of this self-torment?" She paused, visibly frustrated. "Everyone's leaving this weekend. Aaron's gone by Saturday. Are you going to let your feelings and everything you've built just slip away?"

"We agreed to," I managed, my throat tight with unshed tears.

"No, Liv. You made him agree. He didn't want this, and he's not accepting it," she shot back. "I know Aaron. Maybe we haven't seen how losing affects him. He's always had everything, sure, but remember when you said he gave up football to run the family business? He lost something he loved, but we didn't even know, given he never mourned for what he lost because nothing ever shook him—until you. Losing you had shattered him in a way I've never seen. Doesn't that tell you how serious he is about you?"

As if I didn't know, as if I doubted Aaron's feelings for me.
She was right, but her words only ripped at the fragile pieces of my strength.

"Emersyn, please," I choked out on the swelling lump, my voice trembling. "What do you want me to do? He might not have agreed, but he understands me." I rushed out quietly so Bubble couldn't hear.

Her face fell into disappointment, failing to grasp my side.
"So you're telling me you're fine with him leaving, knowing he's in pain? I thought love meant wanting each other's happiness."

Aaron was her family. I expected nothing less from her, though I couldn't shake the feeling of being alone, clutching a secret that was suffocating.

"It hurts me too, Emersyn." I struggled to contain the frustrated sob. "Do you think I'm fine? I have no other choice."

"Liv, I swear we can help. Me, the girls, even the guys. You don't even know the lengths we'd go to for Aaron or any of us," she pleaded, her eyes locked on mine. I swiped at my eyes and sniffed. "You can't. None of you can."

It was his parents who were pulling the strings, manipulating everything. I had seen Aaron try—and fail—to stop their control. Nothing could erase the deep-rooted hatred they had for me and my family.

"What is it?" she pressed, pushing for answers.

My hands, fidgeting nervously against my knees, rounded into balls when I stood up, drawing in a shaky breath.

"You need to leave. Please," I said, forcing the words out as she stared at me, clearly confused.

Cynthia was probably already watching me, and having Emersyn over would only make it look like I was breaking the rules she had laid down. I had promised to put my parents' safety and Bubble's health above everything, including my feelings, and that was exactly what I intended to do.

Emersyn stood, studying me as if trying to read between the lines. "Is it Aunt Cynthia? Did she do something?"

She had hit the nail on the head.

"Please, Emersyn. Don't push this," I begged.

"Are you really going to walk away from us?"

Wiping the fresh tears from my cheeks, I closed the space between us and wrapped my arms around her. After a brief hesitation, she hugged me back. It was all I wanted at that moment.

"Take care of him," I whispered.

"Oh, Liv," she breathed.

Later, I lay in bed at midnight, my mind buzzing with the same static that had filled my head while we ate dinner together, Bubble showing Mom and Dad his costume. It was the same noise that echoed in my head as we watched TV, and Dad found a sliver of peace in Beaumont's apology.

It had been six long years since that excruciating summer, and now Aaron was leaving again. I could never truly bury my feelings like I had promised Cynthia I would. My heart ached as I counted down the hours until Saturday. Twenty-four hours until midnight, and then he'd be gone anytime later.

The sun rose, and I lay there, wide awake, staring at the weathered white ceiling above me.

Aaron had been nothing but good to me. He wasn't the person I used to know, the one I had harbored so much anger toward for abandoning me. He brought joy into my life, flipping my world upside down in such a short amount of time. I won't lie to myself—I love him, but I'll never fully grasp what it feels like to be his or to raise Bubble together. This world is too cruel to let us have that.

"Bug," came a soft knock at the door as it opened gently. Dad stepped inside, careful not to wake Bubble. "You need to head to the bakery and pick up the cupcakes before your mom and I leave for work, alright?"

"Okay."

"You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, just a little groggy," I lied.

"Alright then, hurry."

I slipped into a loose t-shirt and joggers, pulling my tangled hair into a messy bun before hurrying out. The scent of breakfast drifted from the kitchen, where Mom was busy cooking. She asked me to grab some bread while I was out, so I snagged the truck keys from Dad and headed for the door.

Brandy's bakery wasn't far—just a quick drive. We'd placed an order last night, so when I arrived, two boxes of cupcakes were already waiting on the counter. It took me less than three minutes to grab them, and I reversed the truck, making my way back home.

A sleek black Mercedes was parked out front. I pulled in behind it, balancing the two cupcake boxes with a loaf of bread resting on top. The license plate wasn't one I recognized, which made me wonder who could be visiting this early.

As I climbed the porch steps, I spotted Dad deep in conversation with a man dressed in a sharp black suit and overcoat. The man handed him what looked like some sort of document, and Dad scanned it quickly.

"Dad?" I called out, unsure.

"Go inside," he replied, tilting his head toward the door. Reluctantly, I did as told and walked past them.

Bubble was already up, inching his oxygen tank toward the dining table.

"Did you get the bread?" Mom asked. I mumbled a distracted "Yeah," my thoughts still caught up in whatever Dad was dealing with outside.

I set down the cupcakes and bread, then helped Bubble settle into his chair while Mom fixed his breakfast.

"Who's Dad talking to?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

She shrugged, glancing briefly toward the door. "I've got no idea."

We paid the rent, so what could this be about? I watched them through the ajar door, trying to read the situation from the body language between Dad and the man.

"The bills are all paid, right, Mom?" I asked, a little uneasy now. The man handed Dad a phone, and Dad, with an odd glance toward us, stepped outside and closed the door behind him, clearly trying to keep the conversation private.

Mom froze for a second, then sent a worried glance my way as she popped two slices of bread into the toaster.

"I think so," she said, but her voice didn't sound too certain.

No, I need complete validation, not a hesitant response. The funds were supposed to cover all the expenses. We can't allow any more confrontations involving Dad. Despite our circumstances, we deserve to maintain our dignity like everyone else.

After a few moments, Dad returned, exhaling deeply.

"What was that about?" Mom inquired.

Without uttering a word, he handed the paper to her. I hadn't anticipated that, especially from someone who had just stepped out to take a call.

After a perplexed glance, Mom passed the paper to me.

A receipt.

Charles Beaumont... $364,500... Anthony Kelby...

"Beaumont sent it. Aaron covered the payment."

"Mini—goes?" Bubble turned away from the cartoon on Mom's phone, shoving scrambled eggs into his mouth with his tiny hands.

"Uhm... you'd better start getting ready. Time is slipping away," I urged, returning the receipt to Mom. With my heart racing, my legs moved restlessly around the room.

"Lively?" Mom called out.

What I had told them was that Emersyn, Aaron's cousin, lent me the money, so now, with Beaumont's apology and this receipt, it seemed to them that Aaron's family was extending an olive branch.

Nothing like that. I just couldn't bring myself to be truthful, just as I had six years ago. They had no inkling of the threat that hung around our throats.

"I'm going to shower." I cut off the conversation before it could begin and hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door to create a silence that did nothing to quell the noise in my head.

At twenty minutes to two in the afternoon, I had completed the chores, and eaten lunch. Bubble was dressed in his adorable costume, eagerly waiting for me to lock the back door so we could head to his daycare.

With everything just as I envisioned for the day, we left the house carrying the cupcakes and my cross-body bag, which held Bubble's medication and the house key.

Bubble struck a playful pose by the steps for my phone camera, and I chose the shot as my new wallpaper. Afterward, I carried him down to the truck my parents left behind so Bubble could get a ride.

"Moo—sic," He insisted as I turned on the engine.

Smiling, I obliged and switched on the radio, grinning at the catchy song playing as I eased out of the parking space and navigated down the street.

The journey was brief; we arrived at the daycare in just fifteen minutes.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" I paused to ask before he hopped down.

"Goot," he replied.

"Are you sure? If you're not up for it, we can always head back home. But I think today will be fun for you." The anxiety of leaving the safety of home, where his medical station was, had kept us hesitant about all outings, waiting for the surgery.

But Bubble was eager to leap from the car. He beamed at me with maturity beyond his years, which came surprisingly comforting. I stepped out and assisted him, my free hand balancing the cupcakes and his oxygen tank while his tiny fingers clasped around my other hand.

Kane stands outside, a warm smile lighting up his face as he spots us. "Who do we have here?"

"Soup—man!" Bubble proclaimed with infectious enthusiasm, and Kane chuckled.

He opened the door for us, saying, "You can walk him in."

"Thank you, Kane," I replied with gratitude, heading inside, where Bubble was greeted by all the kids singing a song they made just for him, bringing us to a standstill.

"Livy, everyone is a soup—man!" he clapped his hands under his chin, marveling at the kids dressed in matching costumes.

The caregiver smiled at me and, after the kids finished their song, encouraged, "Okay, let's give Bubble what we drew for him."

A boy his age steps forward, holding a white paper and presenting it to Bubble. "You are strong," he said earnestly.

"I am," Bubble replied with confidence.

The boy retreats to the side, and a cute girl approaches, also holding a white paper adorned with a colorful drawing of Superman. She beamed at Bubble as she handed it to him. "You are powerful."

"I am," he affirmed.

The encouragement continued from all the kids, warming my heart and reminding me that it wasn't just Bubble who needed this support. I've never seen anyone as brave as he was. Witnessing his self-assurance filled me with immense relief, and tears well in my eyes from the emotional impact of the kids' heartfelt messages.

I left the cupcakes at the daycare and pressed a gentle kiss to Bubble's forehead, promising to return for him by five. The caregivers mentioned they had arranged some exciting activities for the day, and seeing how happy he was around the kids, I wholeheartedly agreed that he deserved it. Bringing him out of the house was a good idea.

With time on my hands, I drove aimlessly, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts. I soon realized I still had over two hours before I could pick up Bubble, so I pulled over to the side of the road and meandered down to a secluded pier, away from the noise of the world. There, I found a moment of tranquility to unpack the mess of the past two weeks. I cried, grappling with the anguish of nearly every decision I had made, including the harrowing reality that another child would die for Bubble to survive, and the relentless ticking of time before Aaron left Lake Oswego, possibly never to return. The noise in my head was brutal.

A heavy burden pressed on my heart, threatening to shatter it. The pain intensified with each tear, compelling me to curl into a ball, my gaze fixed on the serene lake until my 4:45 PM alarm jolted me back to reality.

Gathering the remains of my strength, I rose and made my way back to the truck, pulling away from the shoulder of the road to head to the daycare and pick up Bubble.

On the way, my phone rang with an incoming call from Mom, reminding me to collect Bubble.

"We're closing in five minutes. I'll see you at home," she said before ending the call.

***

An unusual crowd gathered outside the daycare. I parked the car and stepped out, noticing it was mostly the caregivers and security personnel, including Kane. The daycare wasn't typically like this, even during pickup times, which felt unsettling.

"Kane?" I rushed over to him, seeking for an explanation.

His mouth hung open, but no words came out. He looked at me apologetically, the kind of gaze that sent chills down my spine.

As I scanned the faces of the caregivers, I noticed they all looked at me with similar expressions.

Something had happened. I just knew it.

No!

"What happened to Bubble?" Panic surged through me as I shouted at Kane, rushing toward the daycare door, but he caught me in his arms.

"Lively."

"Tell me he's fine." I gasped for air, desperately searching for any glimmer of hope in his face.

"He was—Aaron Wallace took him." He gulped.

The words hit me like a bullet, paralyzing my hands and legs as shock rattled through me.

Stumbling back, I managed to utter, "What? Why?" My eyes pleaded for answers, as confusion washed over me. This couldn't be the truth my heart was bracing for.

"I'm so sorry, Livy. We tried to intervene, but it was the Wallaces. He arrived with a police escort and some documents... He claimed he had every right to take Bubble with him."

My eyes narrowed as my head cocks, disbelief coursing through me as I struggled to comprehend.

"I'm so sorry," Kane kept repeating, his voice fading into the background as I stood frozen.