chapter 8

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After work, Liya drove to the school with her usual quiet smile, looking forward to seeing her children's bright faces after a long day. But the moment she entered the office.

The receptionist glanced up, her expression unsure. "Miss Liya… the children were already picked up."

Liya froze. "Picked up?" she echoed.

"Yes," the woman replied cautiously. "A man came earlier and said he was their father."

Liya stared, uncomprehending. "Their father?" she asked again, her voice sharper this time.

"Yes. He showed some identification. He said it was urgent The children left with him willingly."

Liya's heart began to pound.

"I'm their only parent," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I've raised them alone. No one has ever claimed to be their father. What did this man look like?"

The receptionist hesitated, then said, "He was tall… dressed in a black suit, very sharp features, intense eyes. He spoke calmly, confidently. The children seemed to recognize him.1"

Liya's breath hitched.

That description… it was familiar. Uncomfortably familiar.

But that was impossible. That man—he—didn't even know about Jalen and Lianne. She'd hidden that part of her life from everyone — especially him. So how could he possibly know? How could he have taken them?

A cold wave of dread crashed through her.

Had her children been kidnapped?

The thought sent her into a full-blown panic.

Without another word, Liya spun on her heel and dashed out of the school building, her phone already in her shaking hand. She didn't care that the receptionist was calling after her. She had one person to call—Judie. Maybe judie had picked her up, and maybe the person the receptionist had described was Judie's boyfriend, Charly.

The call connected.

"Judie," she gasped, nearly breathless. "Did you pick up the kids?!"

"I didn't," Judie said quickly.

"They're not here," Liya whispered, her voice breaking.

"What?" came Judie's startled voice. "What do you mean they are not there?!"

"Someone came to the school, said he was their father and took them!" Liya cried. "But no one knows they even have a father! It was just me all this time!"

Judie was silent for a beat, then asked slowly, "Who was it, Liya? Do you think it was...?"

Liya's grip on the phone tightened, her voice barely a whisper.

"I dont want to think it was Jaden "

Of course! Here's your scene rewritten in polished, vivid novel style while preserving the emotion, tension, and flow of the events:

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"I don't want to think it was Jaden," Liya said, her voice shaky but firm as she paced.

Judie, on the other end of the line, hesitated. "But what if it was him, Liya?"

Liya shook her head even though her friend couldn't see it. "No... no, I'll ask Darley for help. He has more connections. I'll also check around the neighborhood myself."

"I'll help too," Judie replied. "Don't panic, okay? We'll find them."

Liya ended the call and rushed out again, asking neighbors, calling everyone she could think of. But the answers were all the same—no one had seen anything, no one had heard anything, and no one had any information.

By the time the sun had set, Liya's feet ached and her voice was hoarse. Her shoulders slumped with exhaustion and despair as she dragged herself back to her apartment, each step heavier than the last.

She unlocked the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside to silence. The moment the lights flicked on, the emptiness of the space wrapped around her like a suffocating blanket. She didn't even bother removing her shoes. She walked straight to the couch and collapsed into it, her face burying into her hands as sobs racked her body.

Tears streamed down her cheeks freely.

She didn't want to sleep.

She couldn't.

But exhaustion betrayed her, and before she realized it, her sobs faded into soft breaths as sleep took her.

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Some time later, a shift in the air stirred her.

Liya stirred slightly, still in a haze, when she felt an arm wrap around her waist. A solid, warm body pressed against her back. At first, she didn't register what was happening.

Then the warm breath on her ear—slow, steady—startled her awake.

Her eyes snapped open.

There was a firm chest behind her, the grip around her tightening. She stiffened, her heart thundering.

Startled, she tried to pull away.

"Hey! Let me go!" she cried, trying to twist out of the hold.

"Sleep," came the low, velvet voice.

Her body went still. That voice...

She recognized it.

But she didn't want to believe it.

"No..." she whispered, twisting to face him—but she had barely turned halfway when he suddenly shifted, pinning her gently beneath him.

Her breath hitched.

There he was.

His face—calm, stunning, haunting—hovered just inches from hers.

Jaden.

And he was watching her like she was the only thing in the world.

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"You…" she began, her voice caught between recognition and disbelief as their eyes locked.

Liya's expression hardened into a frown. She shoved against his chest, trying to push him off, but he didn't budge. He remained there, calm, as if her struggles amused him. When he noticed her breathing grow heavier with frustration, he let out a quiet chuckle.

The sound froze her in place.

That laugh—it was so familiar, so hauntingly nostalgic.

Before she could react again, he swiftly caught her wrists and pinned them above her head.

"Didn't miss me?" he asked, his voice teasing but laced with something darker.

Her frown deepened. With a sudden burst of strength, she shoved him off and scrambled to her feet, standing a few steps away from the couch. Jaden sat up slowly, still watching her.

"Tell me—were you the one who took the kids?" she demanded, pointing at him with shaking fingers. "Give them back to me!"

He scoffed, leaning back lazily like he owned the room. "Give them back to you? And why should I? You kept them from me for three years."

Liya's eyes blazed. "What do you mean, kept them from you? They're not your children!"

Those words struck like a blade.

Jaden's gaze turned to ice. The amusement faded from his expression, replaced by a chilling coldness that sent a flicker of fear through Liya's chest.

But she didn't step back.

Not yet.

Still, her hands trembled slightly as they clutched at the hem of her dress—something Jaden didn't fail to notice. His eyes narrowed.

If he remembered one thing clearly about her, it was that Liya had never been afraid of him.

Was she scared of him now?

The realization darkened his mood. His expression shifted from cold to deadly.

He rose from the couch slowly.

Liya instinctively stepped back.

"Take one more step," he warned coldly, "and you'll never see them again."

"You…" she began, but her words faltered. She couldn't follow through.

And she didn't move again when he approached her.

Jaden reached her, stepping behind her quietly. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder blade, inhaling deeply.

She still smelled the same.

Too good.

For a brief moment, he let himself drown in that . But he snapped himself out of it. His lips brushed her nape, slow and deliberate, before his hand moved to clasp hers, fingers entwining.

"If you prove yourself," he whispered darkly, "I might just consider giving them back."

Liya tensed. Fury exploded within her.

"Jaden!" she screamed, jerking away. "Don't push it!"

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