“I keep thinking about the good parts,” I admit, my voice low, almost like I’m confessing something shameful. “Her singing while she cooked, brushing my hair before school. The times she stood up for me.” My throat tightens. “I want to believe she’s still that person somewhere.”
Maeve’s gaze softens. “It’s okay to want that.”
“But it’s stupid, right? After everything she let Daniel do? After everything, she didn’t stop?”
“It’s not stupid,” she says gently. “It’s human. You’re allowed to want your mom to be… your mom.”
My chest aches in a way that’s different from the anger, different from the grief. It’s heavier.
I roll onto my side to face her. “What if I go and it’s a trap? What if I ruin everything for everyone?”
Her hand finds mine under the blanket, warm and solid. “Then we’ll deal with it. Together. But if it’s not a trap, and she really needs you… Then at least you’ll know you were there when it mattered.”
Her certainty is like a tether in the dark, keeping me from drifting too far into the what-ifs.
We lie there for a long time, just holding hands in the quiet. My thoughts keep circling back to my mom’s voice on the phone—shaky, desperate, familiar.
When sleep finally starts to creep in, Maeve squeezes my hand once, firm and reassuring. “We’ll figure it out,” she whispers.
And I almost believe her.
The knockon my door is sharp but not loud—enough to pull me from the half-sleep I’d drifted into after sunrise. Maeve stirs beside me, blinking at the sound.
“It’s Elara,” comes the muffled voice. “Your father wants to see you in his study.”
Maeve sits up, rubbing her eyes. “Go,” she says gently. “I’ll make sure you have coffee when you get back.”
“You’re truly an angel.” I roll out of bed.
“Don’t you forget it.” Maeve yawns.
The walk down the hall feels longer than usual. When I push open the heavy double doors to Lucian’s study, the scent of leather and cedar greetsme. He’s behind his desk, not sitting but leaning against it, arms crossed. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, and there’s a tension in his posture that has dread filling my body.
“Close the door,” he says.
I do, the latch clicking shut behind me. “What happened?”
“I sent a retrieval team to Daniel’s old residence last night,” he says without preamble. His voice is steady, but there’s an edge there—restrained frustration, maybe. “The property was completely cleared out before they arrived. No signs of life. No personal belongings. Nothing.”
It hits me like a slow, cold wave. “So she’s… gone?” My voice cracks on the last word.
Lucian steps away from the desk, his expression softening. “She’s not gone, Isobel. Just moved. Likely hidden. Daniel is being careful. We’re trying to trace his money trail.”
I fold my arms, hugging myself. “She sounded so scared. Like she needed me right then.”
“I know.” His gaze holds mine. “Which means we’ll find her. It’s only a matter of time. Daniel can’t hide from everyone forever. I’ll use my resources. You have my word.”
“But you couldn’t find me for years, she doesn’t have years.”
Lucian’s jaw works. I’ve hit a nerve. “I know.” His voice is tight.
The finality in his tone stops me from pressing further.
He moves back behind his desk, picking up a folder but not opening it. “In the meantime, I want you to focus. Keep training. Keep working with the team. You guys have a mission tonight, make sure you’re ready.”
I nod, because I know he’s right—even if it feels like another piece of me has been quietly pulled away.
When I leave the study, Maeve is waiting just down the hall with two steaming mugs. She takes one look at my face, wordlessly hands me the coffee, and falls into stepbeside me.
