Marcellus faltered, his composure slipping for a fraction of a second.

Elaine seized the opening, diving through the doorway before he could recover. His bodyguards lunged after her, but she poured every ounce of her adrenaline into a desperate sprint, bursting into the living room like a woman possessed.

"Auntie Elaine!"

A high-pitched, sobbing cry cut through the air. Before Elaine could even catch her breath, Charleigh slammed into her, burying her face in Elaine’s stomach.

"Where have you been? You didn't even answer my calls!" Charleigh wailed, her grip tightening. "I missed you so much! If you hadn't left, I almost would've been poisoned by my uncle—"

"Charleigh Flores!"

Arthur Bennett muttered "she’s just a child" ten times under his breath, desperately trying to keep his blood pressure in check. He turned his attention to Elaine, his voice softening. "Are you alright?"

Elaine felt a warmth bloom in her chest. She shook her head, stunned. "You guys… you came all this way just to find me?"

"Of course we did!" Charleigh interjected, not letting Arthur get a word in. "You went off the grid, and Uncle Arthur was worried sick! We hopped on the first flight out here!"

Elaine couldn't believe the lengths Arthur had gone to. Beyond that one fleeting, almost-confession of his, they had been nothing more than neighbors who occasionally shared a meal.

She straightened her spine, looking him in the eye. "Thank you."

"It’s nothing. Don't listen to the kid," Arthur muttered, turning his head away. The tips of his ears were a bright, tell-tale shade of red.

"Who are you? Let go of my mother!"

A shrill, furious voice erupted from the hallway. Max came tearing into the room, fueled by pure, unadulterated rage, and shoved Charleigh with all his might.

Elaine gasped, lunging forward by reflex to catch the little girl before she hit the floor.

"Max Spencer! Have you lost your mind?"

Max froze, staring at her in disbelief. His eyes welled up with stinging, hot tears. "Mommy..."

How could his mother be standing on the side of that stranger? Was she... was she done with him?

Charleigh, once she regained her balance, stood straight, brushed herself off, and glared at the boy. "Oh, so you're the ungrateful brat Elaine was talking about?"

"I am not an ungrateful brat!"

"Yes, you are! Elaine’s been hurt so badly, and it's all because you didn't protect her! You're just a brat!"

The six-year-old girl, sharp-tongued and prone to picking up phrases she didn't fully grasp, kept on firing. But her words hit home like a lead weight.

Max choked. He knew better than anyone how much Elaine had suffered. He knew that so much of it—too much of it—was his own fault. He looked at Elaine with desperate, pleading eyes, praying for a hug, a shred of comfort.

But Elaine only said, "Charleigh, enough. Max, come here and apologize."

Max’s tears spilled over. In that singular heartbeat, he realized that not every mistake can be smoothed over. He still had a mother, but he no longer had the mother who would unconditionally protect him.

Charleigh looked stunned. "Hey... why are you crying? I'll stop... wait, where are you going?"

Max didn't answer. He turned and bolted, his small frame disappearing into the shadows of the estate.

Elaine’s heart hitched, and she instinctively moved to follow him.

"Don't bother. He's not going anywhere but the grounds."

Elaine spun around to see Marcellus standing there.

Arthur’s posture went rigid. He didn't hesitate to step between them, pulling Elaine behind him, his eyes narrowed in a cold, defensive glare. "Mr. Spencer, I’ll remind you that false imprisonment is a crime."

"Relax. You've already called the police; what more could I possibly do?"

Marcellus ignored Arthur, his gaze locking onto Elaine. The sharp, jagged edge of his temper had faded, replaced by a dull, hollow ache.

"Elaine," he whispered, his voice dangerously low. "Did you really leave me just for him?"