Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 134

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Sage had barely managed to stay awake long enough to finish telling me everything before exhaustion claimed her. She’s curled up in bed now, my shirt swallowing her frame, hair still damp from the bath, breathing slow and even. But my head’s still spinning. When she walked me through the day, it damn near broke me. The way Lucia grabbed that boy. The way Diego looked–small, underfed, scared to even hold a toy. The way Sage said his eyes lit up when she offered him the cheeseburger and that little red car. Her car. The same model, same colour. Said he held it like it was the best thing in the world. Then the pinky swear–his tiny hand linked with hers and Naomi’s. Her first one, she said, and she’d said it like it meant something sacred.

“It’s serious now, Conner,” she’d whispered, eyes wet and fierce. “I made a pinky promise. We have to get him out.”

And I’d cupped her face, made her look at me. “We will, sweetheart. Of course, we will. But we’ve gotta do it right. No blood, no mess. We do this clean and legal. He deserves that much.”

She’d nodded, but I could still see the fire in her eyes, the same one that makes her who she is. The one that scares the hell out of me

sometimes, because I’d follow it anywhere.

Once she finally drifted off, I slipped out of bed and grabbed my phone, pacing the dim room before calling Nico. It rang twice before he answered, his voice rough with sleep and static.

“Boss?”

“Yeah. We’ve got a plan,” I told him quietly, keeping my voice low so I didn’t wake her. “We’re gonna get him out, but we’re doing it legally. No loopholes, no heat. How’s that birth certificate coming along?”

There was a pause, the sound of keys tapping in the background. “Already got it. Pulled from the national registry this afternoon. The birth certificate is clean and real. And I’ve got the adoption papers drawn up, too. I’ll fax them through to the front desk in the next ten

minutes.”

“Good man,” I muttered, sinking into the chair by the window. The city lights blurred beyond the glass, but my mind was already miles ahead. “Once we’ve got those signatures, he’s ours. No one can touch him. No cops, no CPS, no bullshit.”

“Exactly,” Nico said. “Once the ink’s dry, he’s Conner O’Neill’s son, on paper and off. No one’s taking him from you.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Not me,” I murmured, glancing back toward the bed. Sage had rolled onto her side, one hand clutching my pillow. “Us.”

There was a pause on the other end, softer now. “Yeah. Us.”

When I hung up, I stood for a while, just watching her sleep. She’s been through hell, but she still found room in that scarred heart of hers to fight for a scared little boy she barely knows. And I’ll be damned if I let anything get in her way. Tomorrow, we start step two. We get the signatures, and then we bring Diego home. For good.

The hotel was silent when I stepped out of the elevator. The kind of quiet that only came after midnight, when the air felt thick, when the world finally stopped moving for a few hours. The lights at reception were dimmed, the desk was empty, the chairs were stacked, and the faint hum of the vending machine echoed down the hall. But beneath it, I heard the faint mechanical whirr of a printer. Nico always delivered. I followed the sound to the little back office behind the counter, the glow of the printer light pulsing like a heartbeat in the dark. The machine was spitting out the last few sheets when I stepped inside. I reached out, caught the warm paper as it slid from the tray, and stacked them carefully in my hands.

Birth certificate first Diego Romanero. Small black–and–white photo. Four years old. Too young to have seen what he’s seen. My jaw clenched. Then the next document. The adoption forms. I scanned the details, every line. Nico and I had gone through it all earlier today,

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12:33 Wed, Oct 22

A Wife, A Son And A Home.

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but seeing it here, honest and tangible, hit different. My name filled the line marked Adoptive Parent. Mine alone. It had to be. Sage Angelica Romanero on paper didn’t exist anymore. Not legally. No birth records, no identification, no trace of the woman standing here in her place. And bringing that ghost back into the system would raise every red flag possible. So the papers went under me. Conner O’Neill. The father. She’d never say it out loud, but I knew it would sting a little. Still, when the time came, I’d put a ring on her finger, make her my wife, and then our name, our life, would be on every page. I sank into the desk chair, papers spread in front of me, the silence folding around me like a blanket.

A son.

A wife.

A home.

I’d never thought I’d get any of it. Hell, I’d made peace years ago with dying young, nameless in some alley for someone else’s cause. But now…Now I was holding proof of something real. Sage, my wild, broken, beautiful ghost, she was upstairs, sleeping soundly. And this kid, Diego, this little boy with scared eyes and a bruised wrist, he was going to be ours. My son. Our family. I folded the papers carefully, tucking them under my arm before heading back upstairs. As I passed through the quiet halls, that single thought anchored itself deep in my chest, solid, immovable. I was going to protect them. Both of them. From anyone. From everything. To the ends of this earth, and further if I had to. If Sage didn’t beat me to it of course. That was the beautiful thing about her, she’s more than capable to protect herself, but she didn’t need to do that alone anymore, not with me by her side.

Chapter Comments

Tanya Gordon

2 days ago

Awwwwh and that is Love My Friends.

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