Chapter 5 - The Night Walk
Without another word, Alistair turned and walked out of the nursery.
“Alistair!” Brenda called out, running after him down the corridor. “Alistair, listen to me! She’s manipulating you! She’s using psychological tricks!”
Alistair stopped at the top of the grand staircase. He didn't look back at her.
“Marco,” Alistair said to the lead security guard who was standing by the railing.
“Yes, Mr. McGregor?”
“Escort Miss Thompson to her quarters. Place two men outside her door. She is not to leave the property, touch a computer, or make a phone call until my legal team arrives at dawn.”
Brenda gasped, her eyes widening in sheer panic. “Alistair! You can’t detain me! This is illegal!”
“I own this estate, Brenda,” Alistair said, his voice terrifyingly cold. “And if I discover you have been harming my son for profit, prison will be the kindest fate you encounter.”
The guards grabbed Brenda by her arms and led her away, her frantic protests fading down the long hallway.
Alistair stood alone in the grand hallway for several minutes, his hands resting on the cold marble balustrade. His mind was a tempest of rage, grief, and a terrifying, fragile thread of hope.
He walked back to the nursery. Sarah was still standing near the bed, gently stroking Finley’s hair as the boy slept.
Alistair walked in, his footfalls heavy. He stopped beside the bed and looked down at his son. For six years, he had kept his distance, terrified that touching the fragile boy would break him. Now, looking closer, he saw the subtle changes he had missed: the faint tan on Finley’s face, the definition in his small arms, the fierce, healthy color in his cheeks.
“Can he really walk?” Alistair asked softly, refusing to look up.
“He can’t run a marathon yet,” Sarah said gently. “His ankles are weak, and his hamstrings are terribly tight. But the neural pathways are intact. With proper physical therapy and nutrition, he can walk fully within a year.”
Alistair closed his eyes, a heavy tear slipping down his cheek, disappearing into his dark beard.
“I trusted them,” Alistair choked out, his voice raw with self-hatred. “I gave them full authority because I thought I was too broken to be a good father. I thought I was saving him from my own curse.”
“You weren't saving him,” Sarah said, stepping around the bed to stand beside the billionaire. “You were hiding. But Finley doesn't need a billionaire benefactor, Mr. McGregor. He needs his dad.”
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Alistair opened his eyes and looked at Sarah. For the first time, he truly saw her—not as a hired maid, but as the woman who had brought light into a house that had been dark for six long years.
“Show me,” Alistair said quietly. “Wake him up. I need to see it with my own eyes.”
