Chapter 7

Erika held Connor's hand as they walked toward a hot dog cart near the park entrance. Across the wide avenue, the massive construction site of the new Morgan commercial complex loomed, a stark steel-and-glass reminder of the world she had fled. She pulled out the coins Connor had given her, counting them carefully.

"Well, well. Look what the rats dragged in."

The shrill, grating voice made the hair on the back of Erika's neck stand up.

She turned around.

Taryn Slattery stood a few feet away, wearing a pristine white cashmere coat and holding a Birkin bag. She looked her up and down, her lips curling into a vicious sneer.

"I heard Doyle put you where you belong," Taryn mocked loudly, ensuring the people in line heard her. "Do you still smell like bleach, or is that just the stench of poverty?"

Erika's jaw locked. She stepped in front of Connor, shielding him from Taryn's view. She didn't say a word. She just turned back to the vendor.

Taryn's face flushed with anger at being ignored. She stepped closer, her eyes darting to the little boy hiding behind Erika's legs.

"And you brought the little bastard with you," Taryn hissed. "Does he know his mother is a whore who cleans toilets for a living?"

Before Erika could react, Connor let go of her hand.

He stepped out from behind her, planting his small feet firmly on the pavement. He threw his arms out wide, acting as a human shield for his mother.

"Don't you talk to my mommy like that!" Connor shouted, his voice ringing clear across the plaza. "You're a mean, ugly witch! My mommy is beautiful, and you just smell like bug spray!"

A few people in the crowd snickered.

Taryn's eyes widened in sheer outrage. Her face contorted into an ugly mask of fury.

She raised her hand, the massive diamond on her finger catching the sunlight, and swung it hard toward his face.

"No!" Erika screamed, throwing herself forward to take the hit.

But the slap never landed.

A large, masculine hand shot out from the crowd, wrapping around Taryn's wrist with bone-crushing force.

The momentum stopped dead.

Doyle Morgan stood there, wearing a black tailored overcoat. His face was a mask of absolute, terrifying calm.

He shoved Taryn's arm back, releasing her wrist with a look of utter disgust. Taryn stumbled backward in her heels, gasping in shock.

"Doyle!" Taryn whined, rubbing her wrist. "That little brat insulted me!"

Doyle didn't even look at her.

His dark eyes were locked entirely on Connor.

Connor stood his ground, his fists clenched, glaring up at the giant man who had just stopped the witch.

Doyle stared at the boy. His breath hitched in his chest.

Looking at him was like looking into a mirror from twenty-five years ago. The stubborn set of the jaw, the dark, intense eyes, the arrogant tilt of the chin.

A strange, violent jolt of electricity shot straight through his heart. It defied all logic. He hated this child. He was the proof of her betrayal.

But looking at him now, Doyle felt an overwhelming, primal urge to protect him.

To everyone's absolute shock, Doyle slowly crouched down until he was eye-level with the boy.

The corners of Doyle's mouth twitched upward into a rare, genuine smirk. "You've got guts, kid. Standing up for your mother."

Erika's heart hammered against her ribs. She grabbed Connor by the shoulders and yanked him back against her legs, terrified Doyle was going to hurt him.

Doyle stood up slowly. He looked at Erika, his eyes unreadable.

Without a word, he turned and walked over to the artisan gelato stand nearby. He pulled out a black Amex card and pointed to the largest, most expensive cone on the menu, decorated with edible gold leaf.

He walked back and held the glittering ice cream out to the boy.

Taryn's jaw dropped. Erika froze, her mind completely blank.