Chapter 15

The evening sun cast a golden glow through the tall windows of Sylvester’s sprawling estate, painting the room in a soft, amber light. Melinda sat across from him, her hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes flicking nervously around the space. The tension between them hung in the air like a thick fog, and Sylvester could sense it. He knew why she had come. He had known the moment she called that this conversation was inevitable.

Sylvester leaned back in his chair, trying to mask his unease with a practiced calm. "It’s good to see you, Melinda," he said, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You’ve been well, I hope?"

Melinda, ignoring the pleasantries, met his gaze directly. “Where is he?”

Sylvester felt his chest tighten. He had hoped she might dance around the subject, maybe ease into it, but she had gone straight for the heart of the matter. Of course, she had. She always had been direct, a trait he had once admired in her. Now, it was a liability.

“I… don’t understand what you mean,” Sylvester replied, feigning confusion.

Melinda’s expression hardened. “Don’t play games with me, Sylvester. You know exactly what I mean. My son—**our** son. I want to see him.”

Sylvester’s mouth went dry. He had feared this moment ever since Derek’s arrest. It had been easy to brush Melinda aside before, with Derek’s presence overshadowing her. But now, with Derek out of the picture—at least temporarily—she had become a much more pressing problem.

“Melinda,” he began, his voice soft, careful, “we’ve discussed this before. The boy is safe. He’s being well taken care of.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Melinda snapped, her voice rising. “I want to see him. I have a right to know where he is, to know what he looks like, how he’s doing.”

Sylvester shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I’m doing everything to ensure his safety. That’s all you need to know.”

Melinda leaned forward, her eyes blazing. “I’ve waited long enough, Sylvester. It’s been years. You promised me that once the dust settled, once everything was in place, I could see him. You’ve kept me in the dark for too long.”

Sylvester swallowed hard. She wasn’t wrong. He had made vague promises in the past, assurances that had been meant to placate her, to buy him time. But now, with Derek’s threats looming, the last thing he needed was for Melinda to demand access to the child.

“I understand how you feel,” Sylvester said, choosing his words carefully. “But you have to trust me. This situation is delicate, and with everything that’s been happening, it’s just not the right time.”

Melinda’s eyes narrowed. “Not the right time? When will it be the right time, Sylvester? When he’s grown and doesn’t even recognize me as his mother?”

Sylvester flinched at her words, but he maintained his calm demeanor. “You know that wasn’t part of the deal,” he said, his voice taking on a firmer edge. “You agreed to help Derek and me. You knew what this arrangement was.”

Melinda shot up from her seat, her face flushing with anger. “I didn’t agree to be cut out of my own child’s life! I’ve let this go on long enough, Sylvester, but I’m done. I want to see him. Now.”

Sylvester stood too, his heart racing. The last thing he needed was a confrontation, but Melinda was pushing him toward the edge. “Melinda, please. I’m trying to protect everyone here. You included.”

“Protect me?” Melinda’s voice was full of incredulity. “By keeping my son hidden from me? That’s not protection, Sylvester—that’s control.”

Sylvester’s mind raced. He had to find a way to defuse this before it spiraled out of control, but Melinda was relentless. He could see the determination in her eyes, the fierce maternal instinct that had been simmering beneath the surface all these years.

Before he could respond, the door to the room creaked open, and Albert, the butler, stepped in. His timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Excuse me, sir,” Albert said politely, his voice calm and measured as always, “dinner is ready.”

Sylvester felt a wave of relief wash over him. He glanced at Melinda, who was still fuming, her fists clenched at her sides. “We’ll continue this later,” he said quickly, using Albert’s interruption as an excuse to escape. “Let’s go to dinner.”

Melinda’s eyes flashed with frustration. “Don’t you dare try to avoid this, Sylvester.”

“I’m not avoiding anything,” he lied smoothly, already moving toward the door. “We’ll talk about it after dinner.”

Albert held the door open, and Sylvester slipped out quickly, gesturing for Melinda to follow. She hesitated, her body still tense with anger, but after a long pause, she reluctantly followed him out of the room.

---

The dining room was grand, as always, with a long table covered in fine linens and set with gleaming silverware. The chandelier overhead cast a warm glow over the space, but there was an underlying chill in the air as Sylvester took his seat at the head of the table.

Melinda sat across from him, her eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made him feel like he was sitting in the line of fire. He avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the neatly arranged plates in front of him. **Just get through dinner**, he told himself. **Then you’ll figure out what to do next**.

Albert served the first course, his movements efficient and quiet, as though he sensed the tension in the room and was trying to keep his presence as minimal as possible. Sylvester picked up his fork, but his appetite had vanished.

Melinda, however, wasn’t interested in eating. She leaned forward, her voice low but firm. “Sylvester, don’t think you can just brush this aside.”

“I’m not brushing anything aside,” Sylvester replied, keeping his tone calm, though his hands trembled slightly as he placed his fork down. “I’m asking for patience.”

“I’ve been patient,” Melinda shot back. “But I’m not waiting any longer. I want to see him tonight.”

Sylvester looked at her, finally meeting her gaze, his mind scrambling for a way out. **There’s no way I can let her see him now**. Not with everything that was happening, not with Derek still out there, festering in his cell.

“I told you,” he said softly, “now isn’t the time.”

“Then when is?” Melinda demanded. “Give me one good reason why I can’t see my son.”

Sylvester opened his mouth, but no words came out. The truth was, he didn’t have a good reason. Not one that she would accept, anyway. All he had were excuses, layers of lies that had built up over the years.

Albert reentered the room, bringing in the main course. Sylvester seized the opportunity, standing up from the table. “We’ll talk later,” he said quickly, his voice strained. “I need some air.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out of the dining room, leaving Melinda sitting alone, the weight of her unanswered questions pressing down on them both.

---

In the hallway, Sylvester exhaled, his heart pounding. **That was close. Too close**. He leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair as he tried to steady himself. Melinda wasn’t going to let this go, he realized. She was too close to the truth, too determined to reclaim her son.

And Sylvester wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep her at bay.