My Son Died At Birth Eight Years Ago, Then He Knocked On My Door — Part 2

Previously: Working as a maid in a gloomy mansion, Sarah never expected a shivering, wet orphan to knock on her door—especially one wearing the exact silver dog tag of her deceased husband.

A Mother’s Discovery

Arthur’s eyes flicked from Sarah to the shivering boy, his face tightening with a sudden, dark recognition.

"What is this trash doing in my kitchen, Sarah?" Arthur demanded, his voice booming through the quiet room. "Get him out of here immediately."

But Sarah didn't move. She looked at the boy’s hazel eyes, his stubborn chin, and the undeniable resemblance to Julian. The truth hit her with the force of a tidal wave. This boy was not a stranger. He was her son—the baby she was told had died at birth eight years ago.

My Son Died At Birth Eight Years Ago, Then He Knocked On My Door

"He’s not leaving, Arthur," Sarah said, stepping in front of the boy defensively. "Look at him. He has Julian’s eyes. He has the necklace you stole from my room. This is my son!"

Arthur sneered, stepping into the kitchen, his presence towering and threatening. He tried to grab the boy’s arm, but Sarah pushed him back, her fear turning into fierce, maternal rage.

"You are delusional," Arthur hissed, leaning in close to whisper so the boy wouldn't hear. "Your baby died in that hospital. This is a gutter rat. If you don't throw him out, I will ensure you both spend the night in a jail cell."

"You’re lying!" Sarah screamed. "You knew he was alive! You took him!"

Arthur’s cold eyes gleamed with a cruel satisfaction.

"And what if I did?" he whispered mockingly. "I paid the doctor a fortune to tell you he died. I wasn't about to let a maid's blood ruin the Vance legacy. He was supposed to rot in that orphanage forever. How he escaped is a mistake I will personally correct tonight."

He reached out to drag the crying child away, confident in his absolute power.