Chained (Caged #2)(45)

Something prickled my senses and I narrowed my eyes on the photo.

Red barked in surprise when I shot off the bed and ran into the office.

Quickly scanning the photo, I then brought it up larger on the screen.

“Holy shit.”

Something in my head clicked, and I grabbed the photo from the scanner. Turning it over, as if to verify the truth, I read the words on the back.



‘Sam and Judd, aged 5 and 3’



It was definitely Samantha and Judd.

Except the photo of the little boy wasn’t me. Judd had brown eyes and his blonde hair was almost white.

I had piercing green eyes… and a small but significant birth mark on my upper thigh.

The little blonde boy did not.



Had Kloe known all along that I wasn’t Judd Asher? Had she known when she’d walked into that hospital room that I wasn’t the best friend she’d lost so many years ago?

And if I wasn’t Judd, then who the hell was I?





I’d been standing for thirty-eight minutes, staring into the small plastic crib.

My feet wouldn’t move, my heart wouldn’t beat, and my hands shook so hard that I thought I was having a seizure.

“Mr Cain?” A small chubby nurse dipped her face into my line of sight and smiled.

I nodded, quickly glancing at her before I moved my eyes back into the tiny bowl that contained my son.

He was wrapped up tight in a blue blanket. His head full of strawberry blonde hair made my breath catch.

The nurse, quickly sensing my rapidly depleting resolve, gently placed her hand on my arm. “He’s such a good little thing. He’s so very quiet but pulls the funniest faces. We’ve all fallen in love with him.”

Something tugged at my heart. Seemed he took after his mother with the funny faces then.

“Would you like to hold him?”

My lip popped under the pressure of my teeth, but before I could run, I gave a short nod.

She ushered me into a chair so quickly that I knew she was also debating how fast my feet could run.

Within moments my arms were full and the nurse stepped back out of sight.

I froze.

My throat hurt.

And the pain in my chest was f*cking torture.

He had such long eyelashes, and they rested on the tops of his cheeks like little sweeping brushes. He was a weight, more than I’d anticipated, and when his eyes slowly opened and tiny green orbs glared straight at me, the pain that had been ever-present in my soul stabbed at my heart. The pain inside me bled out in tears and sobs, the little guy in my arms staring straight at me as if he forced me to feel every bit of agony and despair.

But then he sucked in his bottom lip and blinked.

“So like your bloody mother,” I choked out, trying for anger but only managing a soft smile. His head moved faintly to the side as if he was listening to me, and his hand wriggled out of the blanket cocoon and thrust into my face.

He captured my finger as soon as I touched the wrinkled palm of his hand, and he clamped hold of me as if telling me I couldn’t run anymore.

I wouldn’t run.

I would never run.

“This is gonna be hard,” I whispered as I stared at the perfect creation Kloe had gifted me before finding her peace. “Probably more for me than you.” I chuckled.

I swiped at my tears and sniffed.

“But, I think… I think we’ll be okay, little guy.” I frowned, and then smiled. “Sam.”

His lips twitched, telling me he liked that name very much.

I felt her hand on my shoulder and I lowered my face to rub my cheek against her.

I nodded at Sam and smiled. “Shall we let her go? Shall we let Mummy be happy?”

Her hold on me left and I felt the faintest brush of her lips across my cheek as I bent to place a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “I love you. I’ll always love you, Sam. I’m telling you now because you need to hear it. And you need to hear it every day. And if for some insane reason I don’t say it one day then you need to make me say it. I never said it enough, and although your momma knows, words make it louder.”

His eyes closed and he snuggled up against me, pushing himself into my soul along with the remnants of his mother’s.





Seven weeks later, the private investigator I had hired delivered an envelope. An envelope with his findings on the Dawson family.

Two weeks later, the remains of five-year-old Judd Asher were dug up from the grounds around the Dawson’s farmhouse.

I was born to Hank and Mary Dawson three years before Judd was sold to them. I wasn’t even registered. I was an unknown. A boy born from evil and debauchery.

Judd’s belongings and evidence of the sale had been found in the farmhouse when I’d been discovered. It was presumed, as no DNA verification was available, that I was Judd.

Sam and I made sure to visit Judd’s grave every time we visited Kloe’s. And every time Sam would look at the small dog-eared photograph and tell me that his mummy was in heaven with her best friend.



Kloe had given me so much. Once, all I had had was pain. It was all I had lived for; all I had felt. But then she’d walked into my life and showed me there was so much more to feel. Love. Trust. Gentleness. Hope. She had uncaged me, she had unchained me, and she had taught me that it’s okay to be loved, and give it back. And in the end she had given me her very soul. I felt her inside our little boy so many times over the coming years. The way his eyes lit up and the sound of his laughter was so very like his mother’s. His strength and his courage was a gift only Kloe could give him. And the way he adored me for both him and his mum was enough to fill my own heart and soul.