Chapter 7 Ex husband

After breakfast, Adrian stood from his seat and straightened his suit jacket. "I have to head to the company."

Lucas and Demian were already slinging their bags over their shoulders. "We have school," Demian added with a shrug.

I gave them all a stiff nod like some sort of idiot. "Alright," I mumbled, still sipping from my tea.

But before the silence could settle, a loud bang echoed from the courtyard.

BANG!

I jumped in fright, nearly spilling the rest of my tea. My heartbeat raced as the doors burst open and a guard stepped in hurriedly.

"Sir! Madam! A man called Mr. Grill is at the gate. He says he’s here to see Mrs. Blackwell."

Me? My brows furrowed in confusion. Who the hell was Mr. Grill?

I turned to Adrian instinctively, and my confusion doubled when his face darkened immediately. His sharp eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched like he was ready to destroy someone.

"I’m going with her," he said coldly.

I nodded again like the fool I was starting to believe I had become. That’s better. If this Mr. Grill was dangerous, at least I had my cold-hearted knight with me.

The whole family walked outside together, like we were going to some kind of funeral.

And maybe, we were.

The air was tense.

Standing at the gate was a rough-looking man—disheveled hair, tattered clothes, and a scowl that could curdle milk. But what caught my eye was the little boy standing beside him, barely seven or eight. His clothes were worn out, his skin covered in grime, and his eyes—dear God—his eyes were begging.

The moment the man saw me, his face contorted in anger.

"You heartless witch!" he yelled. "How could you abandon your own child?! You ran off and married another man like nothing ever happened!"

I blinked. My ears rang. I felt the ground sway under my feet.

What in the world of motherfuckers is going on?!

I turned to Adrian, my eyes pleading. Explain. Please. Because any second now, I was about to hit the floor and not get back up.

"Who is he?" I whispered.

"Your ex-husband," Adrian replied in a tight voice. "And that… is your son."

EX what?!

I nearly lost my balance.

Mr. Grill kept ranting, shouting about how heartless I was, how I had divorced him and left my child in squalor just to marry a rich man. The boy’s tiny fingers gripped his filthy shirt, his head bowed low.

My mouth went dry.

Everything in me screamed this isn’t right. I had no memories. Nothing about this man—or the child—triggered anything familiar. But the boy… his eyes. His sadness. His fear. It pierced something deep inside me.

Adrian turned to me then, eyes unreadable. "Do you want the child?"

I hesitated. My throat worked hard to form words. I wasn’t his real mother. I didn’t even remember giving birth. But looking at him… he was skin and bones. His hands trembled. And those eyes—they begged for someone to just care.

I nodded.

"Take the child from him," Adrian barked to the guards. "Lock Mr. Grill up for child abuse, illegal gambling, and endangerment of a minor."

The man screamed in protest. "You can't do this! She's my wife! That’s my son!"

"Ex-wife," Adrian corrected sharply. "You lost your rights the moment you raised your hand to either of them."

Mr. Grill kept cursing, but it was all background noise now. The boy had run to me and wrapped his thin arms around my legs. He didn’t cry, just held me tightly like I was the only thing standing between him and hell.

I didn’t hug him back.

I couldn’t. My mind was still spinning.

Helena stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on the boy’s head. "He’s filthy. Take him inside. Draw a bath, feed him, and find clean clothes. Anything a child would need, provide it."

A maid nodded and led the boy inside.

The rest of us followed silently.

Once seated again in the living room, I turned to everyone—Adrian, Helena, Lucas, and Demian.

"I need answers," I said, my voice sharp. "How the hell was I married to Adrian for three days now, met his mother, got our marriage arranged by her, took care of my adoptive mom… and somehow still had an ex-husband and a child I knew nothing about?!"

They exchanged glances, their expressions guarded.

Adrian leaned forward, his voice colder than ice. "You were in a forced marriage. It was arranged between your adoptive mother and Mr. Grill. You were barely legal. He was a gambler. Violent. Abusive."

My stomach churned.

"You ran away once. He found you. Beat you. The second time you escaped, you were pregnant. You hid in a remote village for years. Then we met. Helena helped bring you here. We arranged a contract marriage—not out of love, but to protect you."

My mouth parted slightly. It made sense. Too much sense.

Adrian continued, "You lost your memory after a car crash two weeks ago. You forgot everything—him, the child, even me. Helena didn’t want to pressure you. We thought… maybe starting fresh was better."

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away.

"Why didn’t you tell me sooner?"

Helena reached for my hand. "Because you were healing. And your past was too painful to force on you."

I stared at my lap.

Everything hurt.

But one thing was clear—that boy needed

me. Memory or not, I couldn’t turn my back on him.

I wasn’t the same person who had run from pain.