I was pinned to the ground, held down so tightly I couldn’t move. My son’s cries filled the air, and my tears streamed down uncontrollably. 

But Xavier Smith acted as if he couldn’t see me. Calmly, he placed the camera directly on the table. 

Then, just like before, he took our son’s hand and said in a gentle voice, “Lucas, be good. Don’t be scared. Daddy won’t let anything happen to you.” 

Yet as I looked at the sharp knives laid out on the table, fear gripped me. I struggled with all my strength, trying to break free. 

But it was useless. 

They held me down even harder as I turned to Xavier, my face full of desperation and pleading. 

“No, no! Xavier, I’m begging you, please don’t! Lucas is your son—your own flesh and blood! You can’t do this to him!” 

But he acted as if he didn’t hear me. Instead, he tied Lucas’s legs securely with a rope. 

Only when Lucas was completely restrained did he finally speak. His voice was steady, as if he had already made up his mind. 

“Summer, I know how much you suffered to give birth to Lucas. But Wendy and I grew up together. I can’t just stand by and watch while she’s being held hostage. 

“Trust me, after this is over, I’ll make it up to you.” 

“I don’t need your compensation! I just want my son to be safe and sound! Why can’t you just let him go? 

“This whole thing—this so-called kidnapping—it’s all just Wendy’s act! Are you really going to cut off your own son’s legs because of a letter? 

“You swore you would always protect him! Do you even remember that?” 

I argued desperately, hoping to awaken even a shred of fatherly love in him. 

But I failed. 

I watched as he dipped a cotton swab into iodine and applied it to Lucas’s legs. The sight was like a dagger straight to my heart. 

The pain was suffocating. 

I grew up an orphan. So when I had Lucas, I did everything myself, making sure he grew up strong and healthy.