13

Elara’s Pov

The phone in my hand stopped vibrating, the screen fading to black as Darian's call went to voicemail, but the cold weight of it stayed right in the center of my chest.

Before my racing heart could slow down, the hospital door clicked open, and Kael walked inside. One look at my face was all it took for him to understand. He didn't ask who was calling, but the hard, defensive line of his shoulders told me he already knew.

"I saw the screen," Kael said softly, walking over to stand beside my bed. His voice wasn't angry, just steady and protective. "Do you want me to have security block his number? Do you want him blocked from ever finding this place?"

I looked down at the dark phone, shaking my head slowly. "No, Kael. Not yet. I... I know I'll have to speak to Darian eventually. Especially because of Lyra. I can't just pretend my daughter doesn't exist. But I am not ready. I don't want him to know where I am, I don't want him showing up here, and I certainly don't want to deal with his excuses until I've had time to heal and figure out what I actually want from my life."

Kael accepted my words without a single argument. He didn't try to tell me what was best for me or push his own opinion. Instead, he gave me a firm, reassuring nod.

"Your privacy is entirely safe, Elara," Kael promised, his stormy eyes locking onto mine. "My security team has already locked down every entrance. Nobody connected to the Rooke family is getting anywhere near this floor. You call the shots. If you don't want to see him, nobody will ever force you."

I let out a shaky breath, a wave of relief washing over me. "Can I ask you something, Kael? Have you always been so protective of everyone?"

A faint, tired smile touched Kael's lips. He looked away for a second, staring out the window at the distant city skyline. "I've spent twenty-four years wishing I could have done more to protect the little sister I lost," he murmured, his voice thick with a heavy, old regret. "I made a vow to myself a long time ago that if I ever found you, I would never let anyone hurt you again. But... I also promised myself I wouldn't make the mistake of controlling your life just because I thought I knew what was best. You've survived on your own for a long time, Elara. You don't need a dictator; you need a brother."

His honesty hit me right in the heart. For eight years, I had lived with people who used fake concern as an excuse to control every breath I took. Darian thought providing money was protection, and Octavia thought insults were guidance. But Kael was offering me something entirely different—real safety combined with the freedom to choose my own path.

"Thank you, Kael," I whispered, blinking back a sudden sting of tears. "I appreciate your protection. But... I need to learn how to stand on my own feet. I don't want to become someone who depends on the Veyne name for every single decision."

"And I will help you do exactly that," Kael replied gently.

Over the next few days, my brothers established a comforting, steady routine around my recovery. Silas visited every morning to check my medical progress, always making sure I was healing properly without pushing me too hard. Ronan came by every afternoon, bringing fresh meals, flowers, and thick books, while Kael made sure nobody disturbed us whenever I felt overwhelmed by visitors.

Their contrasting personalities created moments of warmth and laughter I never expected to experience. One afternoon, Ronan and Silas started a loud, dramatic argument right beside my bed over who was better qualified to teach me about the family business once I checked out of the hospital.

"Obviously, I should teach her," Ronan argued, crossing his arms with a smug grin. "I'm the financial head. She needs to know how to read corporate sheets and handle investments."

"No way!" Silas shot back, rolling his eyes. "You'll bore her to death with spreadsheets on day one! I'm much better at explaining things without putting people to sleep."

Kael, standing near the door with his arms crossed, shook his head and cut right through their bickering. "Why don't you two stop arguing about corporate empires and let her focus on actually getting out of bed before you try to turn our sister into a CEO?"

I let out a sudden, bright laugh. It was a real, full laugh that bubbled right up from my chest.

The moment the sound left my lips, the room went completely still. Ronan, Silas, and Kael all stopped talking instantly, staring at me with wide, stunned eyes. For a few seconds, nobody moved. Then, slow, gentle smiles spread across all three of their faces. They had spent so many years imagining what it would sound like to hear their little sister laugh again, and hearing it now felt like a miracle.

Yet, even in the middle of all that warmth, a quiet sense of guilt crept into my mind. I worried that I was accepting their affection too easily, soaking up their love when I still didn't even know how to return it. I felt like a fraud sitting among them, wearing a title I hadn't earned.

Later that evening, when Seraphina came to sit with me, I finally confessed my fears out loud.

"Seraphina... I feel like an impostor," I whispered, looking down at my blanket, twisting the fabric between my fingers. "Whenever you call me your daughter, or when the boys call me sister, a part of me feels like I'm stealing someone else's place. I don't have memories of growing up here. I don't know how to be a Veyne."

Seraphina smiled softly, reaching out to cover my shaking hands with her warm palms. She didn't look upset by my confession at all.

"Oh, my sweet girl," Seraphina said, her voice full of a deep, unconditional love. "Love doesn't require perfect memories, and it certainly doesn't require immediate familiarity. We aren't asking you to magically turn back into the little toddler who vanished twenty-four years ago. We don't want a ghost. We want *you*—the woman you have become, with all your strength, your scars, and your heart."

Her words dissolved the heavy knot in my chest.

That night, before leaving the room, Kael brought me a small, neatly wrapped wooden box. He placed it gently on my bedside table.

"Mother wanted you to have this," Kael said quietly. "It's a collection of a few childhood items we managed to preserve after you disappeared."

After they left, I pulled the box toward me, lifting the brass latch. Inside lay a few carefully stored treasures: a faded pink hair ribbon, a tiny pair of baby leather shoes, and an old wooden music box with carved flowers painted along the edges.

I was deeply touched by the immense care with which they had preserved these tiny fragments of a life I couldn't remember. But looking at them also brought a sharp ache to my ribs. My brothers had spent decades protecting memories of a little girl while knowing almost nothing about the adult woman who had survived years of loneliness without them.

Curious, I picked up the wooden music box. I wound the small key on the back and lifted the lid.

A soft, tinkling melody filled the quiet hospital room, playing a sweet lullaby that sounded both foreign and strangely haunting. I hoped it might awaken some hidden, forgotten memory deep inside my brain.

Instead, as the music played out, I noticed a tiny piece of folded paper tucked neatly beneath the dark velvet lining of the box.

My fingers trembled as I reached inside, pulled the small note out, and unfolded it. The ink had faded slightly with age, but the handwriting was neat, elegant, and unmistakably my mother's.

I swallowed hard, my eyes scanning the first few lines of the message, realizing it was written on my very first birthday after I was stolen away from them.

I read the faded words, and tears filled my eyes when I discovered that the note was written for me on my first birthday after I had disappeared, ending with the promise, "No matter how long it takes, Mommy will always be waiting for you.”