Chapter 1
“I’ve got a little lesson for you tonight, too.”
Delilah stopped moving.
Conrad was still on the carpet beside the collapsed gift table, one hand against his jaw.
Neither answered.
Good.
My son was the only person in the room I cared to hear from.
I turned toward the doorway.
Owen was wrapped around the bodyguard’s neck, both palms pressed against his ears.
“Dad?”
I crossed the room immediately.
“Can you hear me?”
He stared at my mouth.
That terrified me more than crying.
“Owen.”
Nothing.
Then his eyes filled.
“A little.”
My entire body went cold.
I looked back at Delilah.
She saw the change in my face.
For the first time, she looked frightened.
“What did you do?”
She swallowed.
“It was balloons.”
“How many?”
No answer.
Conrad pushed himself upright.
“Roman, don’t dramatize—”
I looked at him.
He stopped.
I crouched in front of Owen.
“How many pops?”
He held up both hands.
Then three fingers.
Thirteen.
My jaw tightened.
Not one cruel joke.
Repeated exposure.
Ribbons so he could not protect his ears.
Delilah laughing.
Conrad supplying balloons.
A three-year-old trapped while adults tested how much fear fit inside him.
Then Owen whispered:
“Conrad said Daddy would come if I cried loud enough.”
The room became silent.
I slowly stood.
That sentence changed everything.
“You wanted me here.”
Neither moved.
I looked at Conrad.
“Why?”
He glanced toward Delilah.
Wrong choice.
I noticed a small black device half-hidden beneath the cake table.
Not party equipment.
A wireless transmitter.
I picked it up.
The indicator light was blinking.
Still active.
Someone outside this room had been listening.
Maybe recording.
I raised it between two fingers.
Delilah closed her eyes.
There it was.
The balloons had not been the lesson.
May you like
They were bait.
And someone had been waiting to hear how I reacted when my son screamed.
