Chapter 4 - The Rescue
The fearsome, intimidating persona of the veteran Mafia boss instantly, violently evaporated into the freezing mountain air.
Richard didn't yell for the guards. He didn't ask what was going on. Moving with a desperate, frantic speed that shocked the entire room, Richard immediately ripped off his thick, expensive heavy wool overcoat. He rushed straight out onto the freezing, snow-covered terrace, completely ignoring the biting wind against his dress shirt.
He dropped to his knees in the deep snow, wrapping the massive, warm wool overcoat tightly around the tiny, trembling, three-year-old boy.
Richard gently and securely carried the freezing toddler back inside the warm entrance hall, pressing Noah’s shivering little body tightly against his chest, his strong, tattooed hands rubbing the boy's freezing arms to generate heat.
"I've got you, little one. Grandpa's got you," Richard whispered, his deep, rumbling voice thick with profound, overwhelming heartbreak and a dark, terrifying, rising fury that had not yet found its target.
Noah clung desperately to his grandfather’s neck, burying his filthy, tear-streaked face into Richard's shoulder. The little boy was sobbing uncontrollably, his tiny body wracked with violent shivers.
"Grandpa…" Noah sobbed, his small, heartbreaking voice echoing clearly over the dead silence of the horrified entrance hall. "...I made it for your birthday."
Noah pointed a tiny, trembling finger back out toward the terrace.
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Richard slowly turned his head. Lying discarded in a snowbank, half-buried by the frost, was the small, handmade wooden airplane wrapped with a simple red ribbon.
👉 Read Part 5 to witness the unbelievable arrogance of the abusive father.
