CHAPTER 2: ABIGAIL'S ARREST

I moved over to her and knelt, smoothing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Kyla, Mommy has to go to work now. Miss Julia will be here soon to stay with you, okay?"

Kyla nodded, her understanding eyes far too wise for a child her age. "It's okay, Mommy. I know you have to work. You're working hard for us."

Her words pierced my heart. I tried to smile, but the guilt weighed heavy. I hugged her tightly, breathing in the scent of her hair, a mix of baby shampoo and innocence.

"I love you so much, Kyla. You know that, right?"

"I know, Mommy. I love you too."

I kissed her forehead and stood up, grabbing my coat and bag. As I reached the door, a familiar ache settled in my chest. The memory of my son, taken from me the day he was born, was never far from my mind. It has been the most difficult four and a half years of my life. I always wonder how my son is doing, if he is happy, and if he knows he has a mother who loves him fiercely from afar. It was a thought that haunted me, a constant shadow that lingered despite the bright moments with Kyla.

Mrs. Bennett had promised to take care of him, but the ache of not knowing was a constant companion. I hoped—prayed—that he was better off, that he had a life filled with love and opportunities I couldn't give him. The guilt of not being there for him was a wound that never fully healed.

My name is Racheal Williams. I am 28 years old, I am from Italy, and I grew up in Bologna, Italy. I moved down to Rome because of my daughter Kyla. Ever since my bitter divorce with my ex-husband Benjamin, I knew I could not live in Bologna anymore, plus I wanted safety for my daughter, and I didn’t want them to take Kyla away from me either.

Benjamin’s POV

I was sitting on a couch in my living room, flipping through the morning paper, when my mother rushed into the living room.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice urgent.

“What is it, Mom?” I asked, already feeling a knot form in my stomach. She looked so worried.

“It’s Abigail. She’s been arrested. In Rome.”

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Abigail and I had been dating for about 4 years now and engaged for 2 years. She was clingy, demanding, and, frankly, more trouble than she was worth. But she was Lorenzo’s stepmom, and that complicated things.

“Mom, you know how I feel about her; how the hell did she get herself arrested out in Rome?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I know, Ben. But she’s Lorenzo’s stepmom. You need to do this for him. You need to go free, Abigail.”

I glanced over at Lorenzo, who was playing with his toy cars on the living room floor. His innocent face lit up with pure joy. My heart ached at the thought of him losing another mother figure, no matter how flawed she was. Lorenzo and Abigail have a deep bond, and I wouldn’t want to take that away from my son.

“Alright, Mom. I’ll go,” I said, resigned. “Can you watch Lorenzo until I get back?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Just hurry.”

I got up and walked over to where Lorenzo was. “Hey, buddy, can you come here for a second?”

He looked up at me with those big, trusting eyes and trotted over. “What is it, Daddy?”

“I need to go on a trip to bring back Abigail. Grandma is going to stay with you while I’m gone. Can you be a good boy for her?”

Lorenzo’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why is my stepmom gone?”

“She got into some trouble, kiddo, and I need to help her out,” I explained as simply as I could.

“Okay, Daddy. I’ll be good.” He gave me a serious nod.

“Thanks, champ.” I gave him a tight hug. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

With that, I packed a small bag and headed for the airport.

The flight to Rome was long and gave me plenty of time to dwell on my thoughts. Why was I even doing this? Abigail had been nothing but a headache. But then I remembered Lorenzo’s face and how much he had already lost in his short life. I had to do this for him, if not for her.

When I arrived in Rome, I went straight to the police station. I burst through the doors of the Italian police station, my face flushed with frustration and annoyance. The officers behind the desk barely looked up from their paperwork as I stormed up to the counter.

"I need to see Abigail Johnson!" I demanded, my voice echoing off the cold stone walls.

The officer glanced up at me lazily, clearly unimpressed by my sense of urgency. "Name and relation?"

"Benjamin Alessandro, her fiancé," I snapped, slamming my passport down on the counter. "I need to see her now."

The officer took his time examining my passport, his disinterest infuriating me further. Don’t they have any idea who I am? "Mr. Alessandro, we have procedures. You'll have to wait."

"I don’t think you understand," I said, raising my voice. "This is unacceptable. I demand to see her immediately!"

The officer finally looked me in the eyes, his expression stony. "Sir, if you don't calm down, I'll have to ask you to leave." At this point, everything was infuriating me. Don’t they have any idea how wealthy and influential I am?

Just as I was about to escalate the situation further, the door to an adjacent office opened, and a woman stepped out. Her presence immediately commanded the room. She wore a perfectly tailored suit, her dark hair pulled back in a sleek bun, and she moved with a confidence that made everyone around her take notice.