The Abandoned Wife's Second Chance (Scarlett and Jasper) novel Chapter 44

Chapter 44

(Scarlett’s POV)

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It’s been a busy day at the bakery today, but a good one. I exhale deeply, wiping flour–dusted hands on my apron, as the last customer of the afternoon finally leaves.

“Lily, sweetheart,” I call out, expecting to hear her little voice respond from the back room where she usually plays with her coloring books while I work. “Are you ready to go home?”

Silence.

My heart skips, but I tell myself she’s probably just absorbed in her drawings. Lily gets lost in her art sometimes, completely oblivious to the world around her.

“Lily?” I call again, walking toward the back room.

Empty.

The coloring books are scattered across the small table, crayons rolling on the floor like she left in a hurry. Her juice box sits half–empty, still cold.

“Lily!” My voice echoes through the empty bakery, sharp with the first edge of panic.

I check the bathroom. Nothing. The storage room. Empty. My office. Not there.

The front door. Did she go outside?

My hands shake as I rush back to the main area, checking behind the counter, under tables, anywhere a four–year–old might hide. But I know. Deep in my gut, I already know.

She’s gone.

“No, no, no.” The words tumble from my lips as I tear through the bakery again, desperate,

hoping I missed something. Anything.

But there’s nothing. No sign of her. No note. No explanation.

My baby is missing.

The walls start closing in, my vision blurring at the edges. Not again. This can’t be happening again. The supermarket was bad enough, but this-

I grab my phone with trembling fingers, punching in Dorian’s number.

“Scarlett? What’s wrong?” His voice cuts through my panic like a lifeline.

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“Lily’s missing.” The words come out broken, gasping. “She was here, and now she’s gone. I can’t find her anywhere.”

“I’m on my way. Don’t move. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

The line goes dead, and I sink onto one of the café chairs, my legs too weak to hold me. Four years old. She’s four years old and somewhere out there without me.

What if someone took her? What if she wandered off and got lost? What if she’s hurt and calling for me and I can’t hear her?

The door chimes, and Dorian bursts in, his hair disheveled like he ran here. His eyes find mine immediately, and I see my panic reflected in them.

“How long has she been missing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe thirty minutes? The last customer left around three, and she was here then. I think.” I press my palms against my temples, trying to remember. “God, I should have been watching her closer.”

“This isn’t your fault.” He kneels in front of me, his hands steady on my shoulders. “We’re

going to find her. But we need to call the police.”

Police. The word makes everything real in a way that terrifies me.

“What if they think I’m a bad mother? What if they say I was negligent?”

“Scarlett, look at me.” His voice is firm, grounding. “You are an amazing mother. This is not your fault. We’re calling the police because that’s what we do when children are missing. They’ll help us find her.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re at the police station. The fluorescent lights are too bright, the plastic chairs too hard, the officer asking questions I can barely focus on.

“When did you last see your daughter?”

“Around two–thirty. Maybe three.”

“Was she upset about anything? Any reason she might try to leave on her own?”

“No. Lily doesn’t wander off. She knows not to leave the bakery without me.”

“Any custody disputes? Ex–husband who might-”

“He doesn’t know about her.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I see Dorian’s eyes widen beside me..

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Officer Owen looks up from his notepad. “Ma’am?”

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Heat floods my cheeks. “Her father doesn’t know she exists. We’re… it’s complicated.”

“I see. Any other family members who might-”

My phone rings, cutting through the questions. The caller ID makes my blood freeze.

James Stone.

For a moment, I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Why would he be calling me?

Unless…

“Hello?” My voice comes out strangled.

“Scarlett? It’s Baba. I mean, James.”

“Where is she?” The question explodes out of me. “Where’s my daughter?”

Silence on the other end. Guilty, telling silence.

“She’s here, sweetheart. She’s safe. She’s with us.”

The phone slips from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. Dorian scoops it up, pressing it back against my ear, but I can barely hear James’s voice over the roar in my head.

“We stopped by the bakery to see her,” he’s saying. “She was so excited to see us, and we thought… we thought maybe some time together would be good for everyone.”

“You took her.” My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. Flat. Dead. “You took my child

without asking me.”

“Scarlett, please understand-”

I hang up.

For a moment, nobody moves. The police officer is staring at me, Dorian’s hand is warm on my back, and I’m sitting in this awful plastic chair realizing that my own family–the people who raised me–just kidn*pped my daughter.

“Ma’am?” Officer Owen leans forward. “What’s going on?”

“I know where she is.” I stand up on unsteady legs, my entire body vibrating with rage so pure it’s almost blinding. “My parents took her.”

“Your parents?”

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“Without permission. Without asking. While I was with a customer.” Each word comes out sharp, precise. Dangerous. “That’s k********g, isn’t it?”

The officer’s expression shifts. “Well, if they’re family members and there’s no court order preventing contact-”

“There doesn’t need to be a court order for them to ask permission before taking a

four–year–old child!” My voice echoes through the station, drawing stares. “She’s my daughter. Mine. Not theirs.”

Dorian’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently. “Let’s go get her.”

The drive to James and Blair’s house passes in a blur of fury and fear. My hands won’t stop shaking. My chest feels too tight, like I can’t get enough air.

They took her. They actually took her.

“Scarlett.” Dorian’s voice is careful, gentle. “What you said back there, about her father not knowing-”

“Not now.” I can’t deal with that conversation right now. Can’t explain four years of secrets and choices that seemed right at the time.

All that matters is getting Lily back.

The house comes into view, and I’m out of the car before Dorian even parks. The front door is

unlocked, and I burst through it like an avenging angel.

“Lily!”

“Mama!” Her voice comes from the living room, bright and happy and completely oblivious to the hell I’ve been through for the past hour.

She runs to me, still clutching that stuffed elephant, and I drop to my knees, pulling her against my chest so hard she squeaks.

“Mama, you’re squishing me.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” I breathe in the scent of her hair, strawberry shampoo and childhood innocence. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Grammy and Grandpa took me to get ice cream and we played with puzzles and-”

“Scarlett.” James appears in the doorway, Blair right behind him. They both look guilty, defensive, hopeful all at once.

I stand slowly, keeping Lily pressed against my side, and the look I give them could melt

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steel.

“How dare you.”

“Now, sweetheart-”

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“How dare you take my child without my permission!” My voice rises with each word, years of hurt and betrayal pouring out. “What is wrong with you? What kind of people steal a child

from her mother?”

“We didn’t steal her,” Blair protests, stepping forward. “She’s our granddaughter. We have rights-”

“You have no rights!” The words come out like gunshots. “None! She’s my daughter, and I decide who she spends time with and when!”

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