The following morning, I wake up to a knock at my door. I climb out of bed to answer. Pulling it open, I find Beau dressed in a fine Tom Ford suit that hugs his body well. I wonder what he's so dressed up for.

"Good morning, Beau," I say, yawning. I move out of the way to let him in.

"Morning, mon amour," he pecks my cheeks and smiles. "How are you and the baby doing today?"

"We're fine."

"That's good to hear," he says, gently rubbing my flat baby bump and gazing at it with love. Beau is going to be an amazing father. He continues, "I came to inform you that I'll be gone the whole day. My grandfather has asked me to handle some business for him."

"I'm surprised he would after the way he acted yesterday."

"Me too; When he called this morning, I was expecting him to inform me that I'd been disowned." Beau smiles. "I want us to have breakfast together, if that's okay with you, before I leave."

"Sure, let me shower and brush my teeth. I'll meet you in the hotel restaurant after freshening up."

"I'll order your favorite and wait for you," he says, pecking my cheeks before walking to the door.

"Thank you," I say as he leaves.

Beau and I have a lovely time eating breakfast and talking about random stuff. It feels really nice. I don't want to admit it, but I missed being with Beau. He makes me happier than any man in the world. Is that enough to forgive him for the pain he caused me? I'm honestly not sure. Pushing the thought away, I bring up something I have wondered about for a while.

"I've always wanted to ask you why half of your family is racist but the other half isn't," I say, taking a sip of water. I thank the waiter as he clears the table.

Beau releases a sigh before speaking. "Nana and Grandfather were raised differently. Grandfather grew up around white supremacists. It was a secret group that influenced him, so Nana didn't find out the truth about him until after they were married. She tried her best to make him see things differently, but it didn't work. He taught his white supremacist ideology to my mom and her twin."

"But Yennefer isn't racist," I say. Yennefer is Harvey's mom. I've never met her, but I know she's not like the rest of her family. Beau had told me yesterday she wouldn't be at dinner last night because she's flying in today.

"No, she isn't, but that's because, according to my mother, Aunt Yennefer was a bit of a wild child. She was sent away to boarding school and was exposed to different people, making it possible for her to unlearn my grandfather's hateful ways, while my mom, 'the good daughter' stayed at home with Grandfather and has never had the chance to know anything different. Nana tried to teach my mom the right way, but my mom has always been too close to my grandfather for any of Nana's words to make a difference."

"That's sad, but it doesn't explain how you and Harvey are so different from each of your mothers."

"I'm not racist because my dad raised me. My mom was busy taking care of Nana away from home. Nana had cancer when I was younger, so my mom spent most of my youth taking care of her at the family estate. But my dad wanted me to stay with him at our house, so I did."

"And Harvey?"

"His mom was hardly around because of her work with the nonprofit organization she started. To keep Harvey from having to start a new life every time Yennefer had to travel to a new country, she left him with Nana. His dad was always too busy being a politician to take care of him. Unfortunately though, since Nana was so sick, my mom had to raise him."

"It makes perfect sense now," I say, nodding my head in understanding.

"Yeah," Beau says, sighing. It must break his heart that half of his family is racist. I can't imagine wanting to be with someone so badly, but half of your family disagrees with your decision for a stupid reason. I feel sorry for him. Reaching over, I grip his hand in a show of support. He smiles at me, the clouds caused by his family clearing from his eyes.

"Are you ready?" Beau asks, standing and offering his hand to help me up.

"Yes," I take his hand and stand. Our hands are locked as we leave the restaurant. Even though mine fits flawlessly in his, I can't help the tug in my heart at the difference of our skin tones. One of the reasons I'm reluctant to get back together with him is because of this. I can't help asking myself, Is our love worth fighting the hate we will get for being together? I know I shouldn't care, but it's easier said than done.

I lift my eyes and our gazes lock. I can see the love he has for me shining in his eyes. I can't help but to think about how I would have doubted what I'm seeing if he hadn't told me the truth last night. I'm so glad he did.

"I will see you once I get back," Beau says, pressing the elevator button for me.

"Sure, have a good day." I kiss his cheeks before letting go of his hand and walking into the elevator. I release a deep breath once I'm inside, praying for something to help me decide what to do.

***

Later in the day, while watching TV in my hotel room. I get a text from Beau.

"Have you had lunch?" He asks.

"No." I text back.

His reply is immediate. "Do you want to have lunch together?"

I consider his offer before typing out my answer. "Sure."

"Alright, come to this place." He texts and shares a location on maps.

"See you soon." I lock my phone after sending my reply and hop out of bed.

While getting dressed, I call the front desk and ask them to hail me a cab. I leave my room and take the elevator to the lobby once it arrives.

The location Beau sent me is close, so the drive is short. I step out of the cab after paying the driver the fare. He leaves and I take a look around. My brows pull together. There is no restaurant here. I'm standing in front of an alley. I call Beau to let him know I'm here, but it goes straight to voicemail. Why would Beau have sent me to this place? There isn't a restaurant anywhere around here. I try his cell again, but he still doesn't pick up. Giving up on trying to reach him, I decide to go back to the hotel. Just as I turn around, a man suddenly appears before me.

I stumble backwards a little from surprise, and my back hits something. Or hits someone. I look at the two men I'm standing between and panic sets in. They have tattoos on their skin, and I can smell the alcohol on their breath. I hug my bag to my chest and try to squeeze out from in between them but fail. I shut my eyes, putting my handbag forward for them to take. Nothing is more important than my child's life right now. My eyes open once I hear them laughing.

"Trust me, love, we have enough money," one of them says.

"Please, I don't want any trouble. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

"Really?" the other one asks.

"Yes, I will."

"Come with us then."

"Huh?"

"Come with us," he says again.

"Why?" I ask, confused.

The first one speaks again. "I thought you said you would do anything we want?"

"Yes, but why do you want me to come with you?" My heart is racing so fast that I'm surprised they haven't complained about the sound. What could these scary looking men want with me?

"Because," the second one says, "we want you to come and play with us." He takes a strand of my hair and wraps it around his finger. I'm too scared to even move.

"Why me?"

"Because..." He pretends to be thinking about it for a minute before moving suddenly. I scream as he grabs my legs and throws me over his shoulder.

"Please let me go, please let me go!" I beg as we approach a van. The other one walks ahead of us and opens the back door.

"Shut up," the man growls at me. I don't listen and begin to scream for help instead.

"Please, somebody, help! Help!" I yell, but no one comes to my rescue. The man throws me into the van, but I don't stop screaming for help until I get smacked across the face.

"Shut up!" He gets into the back of the van with me and closes the door after him, while the other man gets into the driver's seat. The one in the back slaps me again as I try to scream for help once more. He grabs my hands and ties them with a rope. Next, he ties my feet before putting duct tape over my mouth. He gets out once he's done and moves to the passenger seat.

Tearsbegin to build in my eyes as the car lurches forward. Oh my God! I can'tbelieve Edward sent people to kidnap me. That's the only possible explanation. Ilook at my belly, and tears flow down my face as I begin to fear for the safetyof my baby. Oh, dear Lord. Please don't let these men harm my baby, Ipray. They can hurt me, but please keep my baby safe.