Chapter 27
As soon as Melissa stepped into her apartment, Bradley’s voice hit her like a storm over the phone. His words were loud, sharp, and relentless, leaving her spinning. It took a few moments to piece together what had happened
Panicked, she called Gloria to get the details. Gloria explained that Bradley and Curtis had a massive blow–up and were now completely ignoring cach other.
Melissa’s heart sank. She wanted nothing more than to rush back to Curtis, but her common sense held her back. If she showed up now, Bradley might explode, and his temper wasn’t something to take lightly.
By evening, her phone buzzed again. Gloria was calling, and her voice was laced with urgency, Curtis hasn’t eaten anything all day”
Melissa’s stomach twisted as she gripped her phone. “What? He’s not eating? Why isn’t Bradley doing something about this?
Gloria sighed heavily. “He says Milion needs to learn he can’t get his way by throwing tantrums. But Ms. Bush, please, you need to come. If this goes on. I’m scared Malton will make himself sick”
Melissa felt a knot in her chest. She knew Curtis better than anyone–knew how stubbom he could be. But she also knew Bradley. If she showed up, it might push the man even further. And Bradley, when pushed, didn’t just stap–he detonated.
But Curtis was her priority. She dialed Bradley’s number, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Bradley, I agreed to leave Curtis because I trusted you to take care of him. But if you can’t even handle that, then give him back to me!”
Bradley’s voice was already seething when he answered, but her words pushed him over the edge. “Melua Bush, you’ve got some fucking nerve, Not only have you turned my son against me, but now you’ve got spies in my house! What’s next? Should I just hand over the whole goddamn family to you?”
The argument exploded from there. It was their first real fight, and neither held back.
“Stop twisting everything I say!” Melissa yelled. “He’s only three, Bradleyt Kids have tantrums–it’s normal! You’re his Gather! You’re supposed to comfort him, not let him go hungry! Honestly, do you even know how to be his dad””
Bradley’s voice turned deadly cold, every word cutting like ice. “Melissa Bush. I’ve clearly let you get away with too much. You think you can just barge into my life and tell me how to raise my son‘
“Let me make this clear—if you show up here again, or if I hear you so much as mention his name, don’t expect me to remember the three years fondly”
Melissa opened her mouth to argue, but the line went dead. When she tried calling back, the got the voicemail
Her chest heaved as she paced her apartment, anger and worry swirling in her head. She couldn’t just sit there. Grabbing her coat she stormmed out the door.
Sure, one missed meal wasn’t a disaster, but it wasn’t about the food. Melissa krew Curtis was struggling emotionally, and that scared her more than anything
She knew him better than anyone else. Curtis was stubborn once he made up his mind about something, he clung to it like a lifeline. And Bradley? He was just as stubborn, refusing to bend or give in, no matter the cost. If those two kept clashing, Curtis was the one who’d get hurt
Her mind raced as she flagged down a cab and sped toward the Moore estate. The guards at the gate recognized her and waved her in without question. But as she approached the house, it was clear Bradley had been one step ahead. He’d given strict orders: no one was to let her inside.
Frustrated, Melissa paced outside the estate, dialing Gloria again and again. But there was no answer. Her gaze shifted to the tall two–meter wall that separated her from Cuntis. Determined, she rolled up her sleeves and tucked in her shirt.
Taking a few steps back, she broke into a run and leapt toward the wall. Her fingers scraped against the edge before she slipped and landed flat on her back. Undeterred, she got up, brushed herself off, and tried again. And again.
Inside the house, Bradley stood as the second–floor window, arms crossed, watching her failed attempts. His expression was cold, his jaw tight as he watched her relentless, almost ridiculous determination.
With a sharp sigh, Bradley turned away and headed to Curtis’s room.
Inside, Curtis was sitting on the bed, his small frame hunched over. Hearing the door open, he turned slightly. When he saw Bradley, his lips pressed into a firm line, and he turned away, refusing to speak.
“Go eat. Bradley Moore’s voice was firm, cutting through the tense air as he stood at the doorway.
Curtis didn’t even glance his way.
