24

Elara's Pov

For days, my heart had been heavy with worry, constantly wondering how my eight-year-old daughter was handling my sudden disappearance. Every second of silence from that massive, cold Rooke mansion had felt like slow torture. Now, hearing that Lyra was struggling in class, that her quiet demeanor had turned into deep confusion, made my chest tighten with a painful, suffocating ache.

"Mrs. Rooke, are you still there?" the administrator's voice gently asked through the line.

I swallowed hard, forcing the lump in my throat down as I tried to steady my breathing. "Yes. I'm here. Please... tell me everything she said. What did Lyra ask?"

"Well, her teacher noticed she has been very withdrawn all week," the administrator explained carefully. "Today, during art class, Lyra suddenly put her crayons down and asked a very heavy question. She wanted to know... whether a person can stop loving someone simply because they are angry with them."

Those simple words hit me like a physical blow. My eyes instantly filled with hot tears. My poor baby. Lyra was trapped in a home dominated by Octavia's cold rules and Darian's emotional absence, trying to process why her mother had vanished into the stormy night. She didn't understand adult arguments, courtrooms, or broken marriages. She only knew that the person who loved her most was suddenly gone, and she was terrified that my absence meant I had stopped loving *her*.

"Thank you for telling me," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Please... keep an eye on her. I will handle this."

I hung up the phone and stood frozen in the middle of the room. My first instinct was to run—to get in a car, drive straight to the Rooke mansion, and scoop my little girl up in my arms. But I knew how dangerous that would be. If I rushed in blindly without a plan, Octavia would use it to create a public disaster, and Lyra would only be caught in the middle of a screaming match. I needed to be smart, careful, and patient.

I immediately walked out to find Ronan and explained what the school had told me. Without a second hesitation, Ronan helped me contact a trusted family counselor—someone who specialized in helping children navigate traumatic family separations. The counselor gave me clear, invaluable advice: I needed to reach out to Lyra honestly, but gently, without overwhelming her or forcing her to take sides.

Seraphina sat beside me while I spoke with the counselor, her warm hand rubbing my back. "Remember, Elara," Seraphina reminded me softly. "Rebuilding your relationship with Lyra will require absolute honesty, a mountain of patience, and a willingness to let her express her complicated emotions without making her feel guilty for being confused."

That evening, I sat at a small desk with a blank sheet of paper and a pen. It took me over an hour to write the letter, rewriting sentences three or four times to make sure every word was right.

I wrote that I was safe, that I loved her more than the stars in the sky, and that leaving the mansion wasn't the same as abandoning her. I carefully avoided blaming Darian or Octavia, because I didn't want my eight-year-old daughter to feel torn apart or forced to choose between her parents. Instead, I focused purely on our love. I wrote about the quiet mornings we spent making pancakes together, the bedtime stories she used to love, and the way I used to hold her hand whenever she was scared of the dark storms outside.

“I know you feel confused and angry right now, sweetheart,” I wrote, my tears dripping onto the paper. “And you have every right to feel that way. Whenever you are ready to talk, Mommy will be right here, listening.”

Kael arranged for one of his most trusted security operatives to have the letter delivered discreetly into Lyra's private backpack the next morning, making sure nobody at the Rooke mansion intercepted it. Ronan reminded me that I shouldn't expect an immediate reply, explaining that Lyra needed time to process the words. I agreed, though letting the letter go felt like letting a piece of my own soul drift away into the dark.

The following afternoon, while I was sitting quietly in the estate's garden, my phone buzzed.

My heart leapt into my throat. I picked it up and saw an encrypted notification—a secure relay from the courier we used for the delivery. It was a reply from Lyra.

My hands trembled so violently I could barely unlock the screen. When the message loaded, my eyes scanned the words written in a child's careful, hesitant digital handwriting:

*“Dear Mommy, are you really safe? Did you find a new family that you love more than the Rookes?”*

The question broke my heart completely into a million pieces. *A new family that you love more than the Rookes.* Right there, in those few simple words, was the root of all Lyra's pain. She was terrified that because I had found the Veynes, I had traded her away for a richer, more powerful life. She was suffering from the exact same fear of being unwanted that had haunted me for twenty-four years.

Without wasting a single second, I began typing my reply on my phone, pouring every ounce of love I had into the message.

*“Oh, my sweet girl, no,”* I typed frantically, tears blurring my vision. *“Love is never a competition. Finding my biological family does not mean I have stopped loving you. You are my daughter, and nothing in this entire universe could ever replace you. I will never ask you to choose between your parents. I just want to rebuild our relationship, one small step at a time.”*

I hit send, leaning back against the wooden garden chair, feeling completely emotionally exhausted. The realization washed over me that I was finally learning how to offer my daughter the exact kind of emotional security, patience, and unconditional love I had spent my entire life longing for.

A few moments later, Kael walked across the lawn, stopping beside my chair. He looked down at my tear-stained face with deep empathy. "How are you holding up, Elara?" he asked gently.

"I'm trying, Kael," I whispered, looking up at him. "I just want her to know she's safe."

"Whatever you need—lawyers, security, resources, or just a shoulder to cry on—we are right here behind you," Kael promised, his stormy eyes steady and reassuring. He didn't try to solve the problem for me or take over; he simply stood by my side, letting me fight my own battles while knowing I wasn't alone anymore.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of deep orange and purple. The garden grew quiet and still as evening settled over the estate.

Just as I prepared to stand up and head inside for dinner, my phone buzzed sharply against the wooden table.

I looked down, expecting a notification from Ronan or a status update from Kael's security team. But when I looked at the glowing screen, my breath caught entirely in my throat.

It was a final, incoming message from Lyra's secure device.

The simple words glowing on the screen made my breath stop, and I instinctively covered my mouth with both hands as hot, blinding tears filled my eyes.

Mommy, can I see you?