Chapter 12 - The Storm on the Cliff
Ethan ran out into the pouring rain, using his phone to track the GPS signal of Noah’s educational tablet, which was still connected to the estate’s mesh Wi-Fi network.
The signal pinpointed a location at the far edge of the property—the rocky sea cliff overlooking the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean, half a mile from the main house.
Ethan sprinted through the wet woods, branches slapping against his face, his boots splashing through deep mud puddles.
He reached the edge of the woods where the grassy lawn ended and the sheer stone cliff dropped fifty feet into the churning white water below.
Standing at the very edge of the cliff, outlined against the dark, stormy sky, was a small figure wearing a raincoat.
“NOAH!” Ethan shouted over the roar of the wind and crashing waves. “STEP BACK FROM THE EDGE!”
Noah slowly turned around. Rain streamed down his face, pasting his brown hair to his forehead. He held his tablet in his left hand, while his right hand was tucked deep into his raincoat pocket.
“I knew you’d track the tablet, Dad,” Noah called out, his voice surprisingly clear despite the howling wind.
Ethan stepped forward slowly, holding his hands out in a calming gesture, keeping his footing steady on the slippery grass. “Noah, please. Come away from the ledge. We can talk about this. We can get through this together.”
Noah laughed—a high, mocking sound that sounded utterly foreign coming from a nine-year-old child. “We can’t fix it, Dad. You saw the video. You know what I am now.”
“You’re my son,” Ethan said, taking another cautious step closer. “I am your father, and I am not going to abandon you. But you need help, Noah.”
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Noah looked down at the dark, churning water below the cliff, then back at his father.
“I don't need help, Dad,” Noah said softly. “I just needed you to choose me.”
