The Surveillance

After I was brought back from the family farm, I found myself in an arranged marriage with Eric Kensington, the CEO of Kensington Corp. And I inherited a son. An isolated, supposedly violent one. The first time I tried to show him a little kindness, I heard his inner thoughts: [She’s just like all the other women. She’ll talk trash about me to my dad, and I’ll get an even worse beating.] So I decided to be direct. I took his small hand in mine. “Sweetheart, I’m here now. No one will ever be able to falsely accuse you again.” Later, when the marriage contract was up, Eric and I went our separate ways. But the little guy packed his suitcase and chased after me. “Mom,” he said, his eyes wide. “Can I come home with you and raise pigs?” 1 I hadn’t been back from the farm for long before my family married me off to Eric Kensington, the CEO of Kensington Corp. On my first night in his mansion, I couldn’t sleep. The bed was too soft. I went downstairs for a walk. And I stumbled upon Tim being punished. He was such a tiny thing, kneeling all alone in the courtyard. He was wearing a light green short-sleeved shirt with a dark brown tie. It was an adorable, formal little outfit. But I’d heard the stories. Eric’s son was isolated, violent, and utterly incorrigible. Everyone in our circle knew the Kensingtons had more or less given up on him. Still, it was a chilly autumn night, with a light rain misting the air. My heart ached for him. I grabbed a blanket and headed outside. Mr. Harrison, the butler, intercepted me, his voice as cold as the evening air. “Miss Thorne, the young master has a volatile temperament. It would be wise to keep your distance, lest you get hurt.” In the shadows, the light in Tim’s eyes dimmed. I saw his chubby little fists clench and unclench at his sides. His lips were pale, and he looked like he was about to pass out. He didn’t look like he could hurt a fly. I went upstairs to find Eric. He had just stepped out of the shower, a single white towel knotted low around his waist. Above it, his torso was a landscape of taut muscles, the clean lines of his V-cut abs disappearing beneath the towel. With the addition of the gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, he was a potent mix of discipline and raw appeal. I’d never seen a man that handsome back on the farm. But no amount of good looks could excuse his neglectful parenting. “Mr. Kensington,” I began, my voice trembling slightly, “Tim is only five years old. Whatever he did, it’s no excuse to make him kneel for hours in the cold rain.” Eric’s brow furrowed, clearly annoyed by my interference. “Do you know him? Do you have any idea what he’s done? Miss Thorne, I’d advise you not to meddle in things you don’t understand.” “But his health…” “Harrison,” Eric called out, his voice flat. “Bring him up.” The butler was back in moments with the boy. “For tonight, out of respect for Miss Thorne, the punishment is suspended. Go to bed.” Tim shot me a surprised look, then mumbled a listless, “Okay.” He turned and walked back to his room. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Maybe Eric wasn’t as heartless as the rumors claimed. He could be reasoned with. “Mr. Kensington, I…” “I didn’t do anything wrong!” A black shadow darted past me. Tim had returned, charging at Eric like a miniature bull. Eric was prepared, scooping him up with one arm. But he wasn’t prepared for Tim’s other hand, which shot out and grabbed the one thing holding his dignity in place. His towel. It went flying through the air. The cool night breeze whistled a cheerful tune. Shocking! Thrilling! Magnificent. And… CRASH. The sound of a cup shattering on the floor. Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, had come up with coffee and was now frozen in place, gasping. The butler’s eyes were wide as saucers. Two staff members, two statues of pure shock. “We saw nothing! We absolutely, positively saw nothing!” they stammered in unison. What was the big deal? I blinked, then took another good look. A low, menacing voice rumbled from above me. “Have you seen enough?” I had never seen so many colors on a person’s face. A kaleidoscope of emotions—shock, rage, and pure mortification—warred on his face. I cleared my throat. “Don’t be shy. I’ve seen them neuter boars back home. It’s pretty much the same thing…” “Shut up.” The bedroom door slammed shut with a resounding BANG. I could hear Eric’s voice, laced with warning. “Tim, you’ve gone too far. If you ever bite me again, I’ll pull out all your teeth.” 2 I remembered the smug looks on my step-sister and her mother’s faces before the wedding. “Eric Kensington is completely uninterested in women, and his son is a little monster. So many women have tried to marry into that family and run away screaming. I bet you anything Thea won’t last three months before they drive her insane.” “Your boss… he doesn’t hit people, does he?” I asked the housekeeper. Mrs. Gable shot me a disapproving look. “Is it really ‘hitting’ when a parent disciplines their child?” From inside the room, I could hear Tim’s shrieks as he was being spanked. “So, why was he being punished in the first place?” “The young master pushed Miss Victoria down the stairs. She’s still in the hospital, unconscious.” Victoria. I’d heard the name. Eric’s “white moonlight”—the one that got away. “If it weren’t for the young master constantly getting in the way, Miss Victoria would be the one married to him now.” Still. One thing had nothing to do with the other. I kicked the bedroom door open. Father and son both snapped their heads toward me. Tim’s pale, soft cheeks were stained with tears. He looked utterly pitiful. “Mr. Kensington, so I saw you naked. What’s the big deal? You’re perfectly average-sized. Is it really necessary to take out your embarrassment on a child?” Eric’s face was a thundercloud. When I was Tim’s age, someone once held an umbrella over my head in a storm, and that simple act of kindness lit up my entire childhood. Now, I wanted to be that umbrella for him. I crouched down. “How about some tomato and egg noodle soup? I’m a great cook.” I reached out and ruffled his hair like he was a puppy. It was thick and soft, wonderfully fluffy. Before I could get another pat in, he squirmed out of Eric’s arms, leaned down, and bit my hand. “Get away from me, you ugly monster,” he snarled, then bolted downstairs. I looked at the perfect set of teeth marks on my skin. He was strong. It was bleeding. Beside me, Eric’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “So, Miss Thorne, still feel like making him that soup?” “Yes,” I said. “I do.” 3 After bandaging my hand, I went to the kitchen to make the soup. Mrs. Gable came in on her way downstairs, her voice cool and distant. “Miss Thorne, if you think you can win the master’s affection by sucking up to his son, you’re mistaken.” “The master loves Miss Victoria. He won’t eat your soup. And the young master is a picky eater. He won’t touch it either.” She was trying to put me in my place. I gave her a bright smile. “Is that so? Well, until your Miss Victoria marries into this family, I’m the lady of this house. And whether I make soup or not isn’t your decision to make. It’s mine.” Mrs. Gable was stunned, clearly not expecting me to have a spine. “Now, get out.” “Right away, ma’am.” As soon as she left, I saw Tim in the living room with a toy car. He was pretending to play, but he was watching my every move. Suddenly, I heard it. A voice, clear as day, inside my head. [Wow, she told Mrs. Gable, the tattletale, to get lost. That was awesome. But she looks so… country. She has a part in her hair like a little road.] Huh? The high-tech, screen-equipped refrigerator reflected my image back at me. And yes, there it was, a very distinct part in my hair. I’d have to start taking better care of myself now that I was a lady of leisure. No more farm work. From now on, it was all about cultivating elegance and enjoying the good life. [I just bit her. Why would she be nice and make me soup? Is she like the other women? Is she going to pretend to trip and spill it, then blame me so Dad hits me again?] [But I’m so hungry…] Grrrrumble. I was shocked. My instincts had been right. This child wasn't isolated and violent. He was just a poor, lonely little soul. [Forget it. I’m not eating. She’s probably just like the rest of them. She’ll go tell Dad all sorts of bad things about me and make him hate me even more.] My heart broke for him. I changed my strategy. Time to be direct. I ladled the soup into a child’s bowl shaped like a kitten’s head. Then I walked over and took his hand. My voice was soft. “Sweetheart, from now on, I’m here. No one will ever be able to falsely accuse you again.” 4 Tim froze, completely stunned. A second later, he sniffed dismissively. [That’s what Victoria said, too. And then she started blaming me for everything.] [The prettier the woman, the bigger the liar. I don’t believe her.] With that, he scurried away. I had made an extra bowl for Eric, so I carried both of them upstairs. The tomato broth was rich and thick, the eggs fluffy and soaked in flavor. A sprinkle of bright green scallions on top made it look irresistible. The light was on in his study. I knocked once and pushed the door open. “I made soup.” Eric looked at me, his expression unreadable, his tone distant and laced with a warning. “Miss Thorne, there’s no one else here. You know perfectly well why we’re married. Don’t start aspiring to things that don’t belong to you. When our three years are up, we go our separate ways. There’s no need to put on a show of being the perfect wife and mother.” He never would have had to marry me if my father hadn’t set him up, making sure he woke up in my bed. It was only natural that he disliked me. Still, I rolled my eyes at him. “I made it for Tim. I just brought you a bowl as an afterthought.” I tried to hold my tongue, but I couldn’t. I may be good-natured, but I have a temper. “Mr. Kensington, you may be a rich and powerful CEO, but not every woman who sees you is going to fall for you. Don’t be so conceited.” He stared at me, speechless. “Tim is just a little boy. If he goes hungry, it could cause stomach problems later in life. He’s your son. The least you could do is be grateful that I’m kind enough to feed him, but instead you’re being sarcastic and accusatory. Are you even sure he’s yours?” My words seemed to deepen the storm clouds on his face. He was clearly not pleased with a woman who dared to talk back to him. But his upbringing won out. He didn’t say anything to me, just turned and told Mrs. Gable to bring Tim in. Tim entered cautiously, his eyes darting between me and his father. “Dad,” he whispered. Eric gestured with his chin toward the soup on the desk. “Eat it.” It was a cold command, not a fatherly invitation. “Okay.” Tim carefully picked up his chopsticks and began to slurp the noodles. [Dad actually noticed I haven’t eaten. Does that mean… he doesn’t hate me as much today?] At his core, he was just a little boy starved for affection. “Slow down, you’ll choke.” Tim’s head snapped up, his face a mask of astonishment. [She… she really didn’t try to trick me? She just made me soup? Is it poisoned?] But he was a child, and his memory was short. Soon, his feet were swinging happily under the chair. [This is so good!] Who said he was difficult? He was actually quite easy to please. He finished the bowl quickly, licked his lips, and stared longingly at Eric’s portion. He wanted more but didn’t dare ask. It was a pretty big bowl. I wasn’t sure if a child should eat that much so late at night. Then Eric spoke. “It’s late. No more. Go brush your teeth and get ready for bed.” Tim mumbled an “okay” and left. Once he was gone, I started to clear the bowls, including Eric’s untouched one. “Mr. Kensington, I overstepped tonight. I won’t make food for Tim without your permission again.” I was about to leave when he stopped me. His eyes were deep, intense. “If you can remember your place, you may do as you wish in this house without asking for my permission.” Oh-ho. A classic move. Feign retreat to advance. Was he giving me power? The hearts of men. So complicated. I smiled and placed his soup back in front of him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Kensington. I know you have someone else in mind for the role of Mrs. Kensington. I’m only in this for the money.” He tossed a black card onto the desk. “See that you remember that.” 5 Eric was a busy man. So busy that, despite living under the same roof, we barely saw each other. One afternoon, I discovered a whole row of motorcycles in his garage. I immediately went to find Mrs. Gable, who pointed me to a room where the keys were kept. Rich people’s car keys lived in their own separate room, apparently. I picked the most impressive-looking one. But before I could even get it out of the driveway, Tim was brought home by the butler, Mr. Harrison. Harrison was on the phone with Eric. “Yes, sir. The young master got into another fight.” “He’s home now. The damages have been paid.” “Very good, sir. Goodbye.” After hanging up, the butler fixed Tim with a grim stare, looking for all the world like my bald, terrifying middle school principal. “Young master, you remember the Kensington family rules, do you not? Kneel. Mrs. Gable, bring the ruler.” Tim’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Mr. Harrison, I really didn’t hit him! Please, just tell Dad…” “Mr. Harrison, perhaps we should wait for Mr. Kensington…” Mrs. Gable began. “Mrs. Gable, the master has entrusted the young master’s discipline to me, and I will see it done.” He turned back to the boy. “Young master, the security footage is quite clear. You hit him.” When Mrs. Gable returned with the ruler, Tim transformed into an enraged lion cub. He shoved her aside and scrambled under a table, his eyes red and brimming with unshed tears. [He started it! He hit me first! Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me?] He swept a crystal fruit bowl off the coffee table, sending it crashing to the floor. He kicked over an antique vase. “Fine! I did it!” he screamed, his voice raw. “I hit him, and I wanted to kill him!” “And I’m going to kill you, too! Get away from me!” “I’ll kill all of you!” “Mrs. Gable, call for backup!” A team of security guards in sharp suits entered, surrounding the small boy. “Lock the young master in his room for now. We’ll wait for the master to return for the full punishment.” Sheer terror flashed in Tim’s eyes. He began to struggle violently. “No! I won’t go! Get off me! All of you, get off me!” He screamed. He bit. Several guards quickly pinned him down. No matter how much he thrashed, he couldn’t break free. He was locked in a room. A dark room. There was nothing inside. When the door closed, his hysterical screams echoed through the hall. “I hate you! I’m going to kill all of you!” So it really wasn’t him. But for some reason, no one ever believed him. And in his anger, he would just lash out with threats, which only made things worse. This kind of violent suppression was only going to backfire. “Give him to me.” Mr. Harrison frowned. “Miss Thorne, this is a family matter. I must insist you stay out of it.” “To hell with your ‘family matter,’” I spat, losing my temper completely. “If you’ve forgotten, go take a look at my marriage certificate! I’m taking Tim with me.” The butler didn’t budge. “Without a direct order from the master, no one is to go near the young master.” With that, he and the guards departed. Mrs. Gable hesitated. “Miss Thorne, when the master is away, Mr. Harrison is in charge of discipline. You can’t take him without an order. Besides… the young master really can be violent. He’s only trying to protect you.” After her warning, she left too. A heavy weight settled in my chest. I’ve never had children, but I knew this kind of treatment would lead to disaster. The sounds from the room grew fainter. The door was locked. The window… I slipped out of the house, avoiding the staff, and started climbing. Hand over hand, I scaled the wall to the second floor, inching my way along the window ledge. I smashed the glass. When I tumbled inside, the first thing I saw was a small, trembling ball curled up in the corner, whimpering softly. “Tim.” The figure in the corner flinched. His voice was small and fragile, like a wounded kitten’s. “Mommy? Is that you?” “Mommy, it’s so dark in here. I’m scared.” 6 The tiny bundle launched himself into my arms. As soon as he saw it was me, Tim’s expression stiffened, and he instinctively tried to push me away. “You…” “Shh!” I held him tight. “I’m getting you out of here. Don’t make a sound, or we’ll get caught.” His face was a mask of suspicion. “You scheming, wicked woman. What are you planning to do to me?” “Hold on tight. We’re on the second floor, and it’s a long way down. And my name isn’t ‘wicked woman.’ It’s Thea.” “Aren’t you afraid of Mr. Harrison? If he finds out, he’ll have the guards lock you up, too.” Despite his muttering, he clung to my neck like a little octopus. It had been a while since I’d climbed anything. I was out of practice. We finally made it down to the ground. I led him to the garage and found a tiny helmet for him. “Where are you taking me?” “I’m kidnapping you. Then I’m going to sell you.” The motorcycle roared to life. Mrs. Gable heard the noise and came out to investigate. Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh no! The young master has escaped… wait! You can’t ride that one! That’s the master’s favorite…!” I took Tim to a KFC and ordered him a mountain of food. He didn’t eat. He just stared at me, his eyes full of suspicion. “What do you really want?” “I told you, I’m going to sell you. The only son of the CEO of Kensington Corp must be worth a lot of money, right?” “I’m not worth anything.” Tim lowered his head, his long eyelashes hiding his expression. “Dad doesn’t like me. It’s no use selling me.” I placed my hand over his. “But I like you very much.” He looked up at me, shocked. A moment later, a blush spread across his soft cheeks. He looked flustered and shy, fidgeting with his chubby fingers. I covered his hands with mine. “You’re adorable, and I like you. But for now, let’s just eat, okay?” “Well… if you insist, I guess I can do you a favor and eat a little.” The little guy was starving. He devoured the food. Once he was finished, I could see his defenses were down. I seized the opportunity. “You ate my food, so now you have to tell me what happened at preschool. Why did you hit him?” “Because I felt like it.” “Use your words.” “I didn’t like the look of him, so I hit him.” [It doesn’t matter. No one will believe the truth anyway. They’ll just say I’m making excuses.] Poor baby. I ruffled his hair. “I’m guessing… he started it.” Tim’s head snapped up. He quickly looked down again, but the way he was wringing his hands betrayed his excitement. [How did she know Tiger was the one who started it?] “It was Tiger, wasn’t it? He hit you first.” Tim’s eyes went wide. He looked absolutely stunned. [She knows that, too? Does she also know he was bullying Daisy, and that’s why I hit him?] “Tiger was picking on Daisy, and you were defending her.” The little guy was so excited he nearly slid off his chair, a tuft of his hair sticking straight up. [She knows! She knows! She knows everything!] “Tiger is a bully, isn’t he? He picks on Daisy and the other kids, too.” [Aaaaaah! She’s an angel! She has little stars in her eyes!] I smiled and took his hand. When he didn’t pull away, I lifted him onto my lap. “I was right about everything, wasn’t I?” “I guess you’re pretty smart,” he mumbled, trying his best to look nonchalant despite being thrilled. He was a lot like Eric in that way. “Should we call your dad and tell him the truth?” Tim’s expression immediately turned anxious. After a long pause, he asked uncertainly, “But what if…” “There are no what-ifs. But you have to tell him exactly what I tell you to say. I promise, he’ll listen.” “Fine. I’ll give you one chance.” “Deal.” Just as I was about to dial, my phone rang. It was Eric. Time to face the music. The moment I answered, his cold voice came through the line. “Did you take Tim?” “About that fight at preschool, I think you need to hear the truth. I’ll let him tell you himself.” “Dad.” “Are you ready to admit you were wrong?” “I… I am…” I gave Tim’s ear a gentle squeeze, and he perked up. “Dad, Tiger started it. I didn’t mean to hit him.” Eric had probably heard that line a hundred times. He had zero patience left. “The teacher and the security cameras both say it was you, Tim. Are you really going to lie to my face?” Tim’s confidence wavered. He looked at me, his eyes filling with tears. I gave him a firm nod. Bolstered, he recounted the entire story, exactly as it happened. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Are you sure you’re not lying this time?” “I’m not, Dad.” “I see. I’ll look into it.” I hung up the phone and wiped Tim’s tears. “Feeling a little better?” He nodded enthusiastically, then looked a bit embarrassed. “But will Dad really investigate?” “Let’s give him a chance.” Even as I said it, my fingers were flying across my phone’s screen. I sent Eric a friend request with the note: Urgent. He accepted almost immediately. “To the busiest CEO in the world: Do your job. Investigate properly. Find out just how many times you and that teacher have wronged your son because of your own biases.” His reply was swift. “Where are you?” “Don’t worry. I may be the step-mom, but I won’t falsely accuse him, I won’t make him cry, and I certainly won’t sell him. I’ll bring him home tonight.”

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