Reclaimed By My Ex-husband-Chapter 52: A deal

An uneasy silence settled on the line. Isaac stood frozen, sweat beading on his forehead, every second without a reply gnawing at his nerves.

"I’ll help you capture her," he said again, more urgently this time.

"You think I’m stupid?" the man finally snapped, suspicion bleeding into his voice. "Is this some setup? You trying to feed me to the wolves?"

"No, no—nothing like that," Isaac shot back, stumbling over his words. "I swear, I wouldn’t dare. This isn’t a trick."

He paused, trying to steady his breath. "I have my own reasons. The Grants humiliated me, made me feel like nothing. This isn’t just about the money anymore. It’s revenge. Helping you take Zara is how I even the score."

His tone dropped to a pleading murmur. "Please. Don’t hurt my son. Let him go. I’ll make sure Zara ends up right where you want her. Trust me."

Still, the line was quiet. Isaac’s stomach churned.

Then, finally, the voice came back, fierce and livid. "You have got some nerve," the man thundered. "You are trying to drag me into a war with the Grant family? Do you think I’m suicidal?"

He snorted with disbelief. "You want me to kidnap their daughter-in-law! You must think I’m a fool. They are powerful. With their reach and influence, they’ll erase me off the map."

Isaac’s lips parted, but no words came. He felt completely powerless. Panic surged, but he wasn’t ready to back down.

"What are you saying, Sir? You are far more powerful than the Grant family." He said those flattering words to please him. "You have got eyes and influence everywhere in the city, even the underworld respects you. Compared to you, the Grants are nothing. They’ll fold the moment you put pressure on them."

There was a pause on the line, then a low chuckle rumbled through the speaker.

"You smooth-talking bastard," the man said, amused and pleased by Isaac’s words. "You really know how to please me."

"Only speaking the truth, Sir," Isaac replied, forcing a laugh, though his chest pounded with nervous anticipation. "Now, if I may... please send Jaxon back home. It’ll take the heat off. The police won’t keep digging if he returns home safe."

The man was quiet for a moment, considering.

"You have a point," he admitted. "We can’t afford unwanted attention right now. I’ll send your son back for now. But hear me, Isaac..."

His tone dropped, turning sharp as a knife. "If you double-cross me, if I get even a whiff of betrayal, I’ll erase your entire existence."

Isaac swallowed hard. "You have my word," he said reassuringly. "I won’t betray you."

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The next morning...

Zara sat on the edge of her bed, phone pressed to her ear as she called the police station, expecting an update on Jaxon. However, she was met with irritation instead.

"Madam, this is your last warning," the officer barked. "If you call here again, we’ll file a complaint against you for making a false report."

Zara froze, caught off guard. "False report?"

"You told us your brother was kidnapped," the officer continued with a sharp and dismissive tone. "But he is fine. His friends brought him home last night. Don’t waste our time with your games."

Before she could respond, the line went dead.

She pulled the phone away, staring at the screen in stunned disbelief. She was confused as to what she had just heard.

"Jaxon... is back?" she wondered, baffled. But the realization dawned on her. "So he wasn’t kidnapped at all..."

The shock quickly gave way to a burning rage. "He lied to me," she growled, mouth twisting. "It was just a scam to squeeze more money out of me."

Fury swelled in her chest, hot and sharp. "I should’ve known better. I should’ve never trusted them again."

She tossed the phone onto the nightstand with a bitter snort.

"Mommy..." Zane called out from the bathroom. "I forgot the towel."

Zara sighed, the last traces of her earlier anger dissolving. "Yes, I’m coming." Grabbing a towel from the cabinet, she walked briskly toward the bathroom. She forgot to take her crutch. She didn’t even notice.

She knocked gently. "Here it is. Take it."

The bathroom door cracked open just enough for a little hand to poke through. Zara handed the towel over and waited patiently.

Moments later, Zane emerged, water dripping down his hair, a towel snugly wrapped around his waist. Zara took another fresh towel, gently rubbing his wet head.

"Bath done," she said with a soft smile, her earlier frustration melting away. "Now let’s get ready for school."

Zane blinked at her, eyes suddenly widening. "Mommy!" he gasped, pointing at her leg. "You are not using your crutch."

Zara’s smile faltered for a beat. She looked down, surprised. She was standing straight on both feet with no support.

And then it hit her—there was no pain.

Zane’s face lit up with awe. "Does it hurt?"

Zara shook her head slowly, still absorbing the moment. "No... I think I’m healed," she said softly. "Looks like I don’t need the crutch anymore. Maybe not even the bandage."

Zane beamed, pure joy lighting up his face. "That’s awesome! Let’s call Daddy. He’ll be happy."

Zara’s smile faded for a moment.

Nathaniel. He hadn’t said a word before leaving for his business trip—no goodbye, no message since.

She doubted he’d care that she was walking again. That thought stung more than she cared to admit.

Still, she forced a gentle smile for Zane’s sake, burying the ache deep inside. "Let’s not bother him right now. He is probably swamped with work. We’ll keep this a surprise, okay?"

Zane nodded, cheerful as ever. "Okay. Whatever you say, Mommy."

"Good," Zara said, ruffling his hair. "Now go get ready. I’ll go check if breakfast is done."

She handed him his clothes, then stepped out of the room, limping slightly as she made her way down the hallway.

As she entered the kitchen, she saw Helga busy at the counter.

"Is breakfast ready?" Zara asked, walking in.

Helga turned and beamed the moment she saw her. "You are walking without your crutch!" she exclaimed. "How is the pain?"

"It’s still there," Zara admitted, "but so much better."

Helga nodded thoughtfully. "Should I call Dr. Eugen for a checkup?"

"No need." Zara shook her head. "I’ll go to the hospital myself later. What did you cook?"

Her eyes wandered to a plate piled high. "Pancakes!" Her face lit up with genuine delight.

Helga chuckled, pleased. "I remembered—potato pancakes are your favorite." She gestured to the plate. "These are for you. And for everyone else, I made these..."

She lifted a lid to reveal a tray filled with crispy fried bacon, golden buttered toast, and neatly arranged boiled eggs.

As the rich, greasy scent of fried bacon wafted through the air, Zara’s stomach churned, a wave of nausea rising so suddenly it stole her breath. She clamped a hand over her mouth and rushed out of the kitchen, storming into the bathroom.

"Young Madam?" Helga called out, startled. She followed quickly, stopping just outside the nearest bathroom as the unmistakable sound of retching echoed from inside.

"Are you alright? Is it food poisoning? Did something upset your stomach?" Her brow furrowed with concern.

Riya, having just descended the stairs, slowed as she saw the scene. Her gaze sharpened. A flicker of suspicion crossed her face, and her hands instinctively gripped the sides of her dress.

A single thought surfaced in her mind: ’Is Zara pregnant?’

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