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Prologue

The woman never lets her gaze waver from the boy. She greedily takes in the soft curve of his cheeks and the dimple in his chin. Even from this safe distance, she sees the steel blue of his eyes as he looks up to his mother adoringly – eyes so like his father’s.

The mother reaches over to brush damp blond curls from his forehead, warm from the afternoon sun. The tenderness of the moment catches the woman off guard. A surge of pain, sharp and intrusive, hits her, and it takes all her willpower not to shout, ‘ Stop! ’

She closes her eyes momentarily and breathes in and out until the pain subsides. The woman looks again at the little boy and focuses only on him, not the mother. A resolute smile forms on her lips as she observes his plump, pink hands cradling his bottle. She knows, with unwavering certainty, what she must do to protect the boy and keep him safe from his father.

The woman’s smile widens, her heart aching with the intensity of her love for this boy whom she can only watch from afar. She commits to memory every extraordinary detail, her mind painting a vivid picture of what it will feel like to hold him. Her arms ache with the intensity of her longing, a longing that will consume her if she does not make it happen.

Soon.