LOGINThat afternoon, Ms. Fontaine had just left Alina's hospital room when her phone rang."Ms. Fontaine speaking.""This is Dr. Whitmore."The hospital director's voice sounded tense."I need to meet with you. Now."Ten minutes later, they sat facing each other in the director's office.No small talk.Dr. Whitmore immediately handed over a document.Ms. Fontaine read it.The longer she read, the colder her expression became.Medical Recommendation for Home Care.On grounds of the mother's and baby's health.On grounds of emotional stability.On grounds of a more comfortable environment.Alina was recommended for home-based care.Ms. Fontaine closed the document slowly."Daniel Blackwood."It wasn't a question.Dr. Whitmore let out a long breath."This afternoon. He came himself."The room fell silent."Are you going to sign it?"The question came directly.The hospital director looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes like a man who hadn't slept properly in days."I'm being pressured
At Blackwood Mansion, Mrs. Helen had just finished preparing breakfast when Mr. Harris called her to the second floor corridor. The man stood with his usual upright posture, his expression flat and unreadable."Clean Mrs. Alina's and Mr. Daniel's room today," Mr. Harris said briefly. "Until it's spotless. Make sure everything is tidy."Mrs. Helen frowned. "I'm sorry, Mr. Harris. Why suddenly—""Mrs. Alina will be coming home from the hospital soon."Those words fell like a stone on Mrs. Helen's chest.Her body tensed. "Coming home?" she repeated, her voice almost catching. "But... isn't Mrs. Alina still receiving treatment? Her condition is still—""That is not your concern," Mr. Harris interrupted, his tone firm. "Your job is only to clean the room. Don't cause trouble, Mrs. Helen. Just carry out what you've been told."Mrs. Helen stared at Mr. Harris, her mouth opening to protest. But Mr. Harris had already turned and walked away, ending the conversation before it could begin.Mrs.
Morning at St. Catherine's arrived with gentle light.Sunlight entered through the gap in the curtains, falling diagonally on the floor of room 412, touching the edge of the bed where Alina sat. Not lying down. Sitting—with her back straight and hands folded in her lap and the expression of someone who had made a decision before dawn truly arrived.She had been waiting since seven o'clock.When Ms. Fontaine knocked and entered with a warm professional smile, she immediately sensed something different. Not from Alina's appearance—hair still dull, skin still pale, IV line still attached to the back of her hand. But from the way Alina looked at her. Directly. Without avoiding."Good morning," Ms. Fontaine greeted while placing her bag on the chair."Good morning." Alina took a breath. "Can we talk alone? Without nurses. Without anyone outside the door."Ms. Fontaine looked at her for a moment, then nodded. She walked to the door, spoke briefly with the nurse outside, then closed the door
In the morning, Clarissa opened the door to wake her son. But she found Junior already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with an unusual expression. Sullen. Pensive."Good morning, darling," Clarissa greeted cheerfully, putting on a perfect maternal smile. "Did you sleep well?"Junior didn't answer immediately. He looked at his mother with a gaze that made Clarissa slightly uncomfortable—a gaze that seemed to be searching for something."Mommy left last night," Junior said quietly.Clarissa's smile froze for a split second. "What?""Mommy promised to stay with me until morning. But when I woke up, Mommy wasn't there." Junior's voice was small, but there was a hurt tone in it. "Where did Mommy go?"Clarissa quickly recovered, kneeling in front of Junior and stroking his hair. "Oh, darling. I'm sorry. Mommy just went to the bathroom for a bit. Then Mommy ended up falling asleep in her own room because she was too tired." She smiled gently. "Mommy didn't really leave you, you know. M
Junior couldn't go back to sleep.He sat in the middle of the large bed, hugging the worn rabbit stuffed animal to his chest, staring at the closed bedroom door. Traces of tears still marked his cheeks, and the dreams. The dreams about Alina still felt real, as if they had just happened.Junior's head was filled with questions too big for a child his age.Why did the memories in his dream feel so warm? Why did Alina's face, who was supposedly a bad person, instead make him feel safe? Why in that dream did Alina teach him to write, read him stories, take care of him when he was sick—things that shouldn't have happened at all if Alina was really like what Mommy said?Junior didn't understand.But there was one thing he knew for certain. Something clearer than all that confusion.Mommy left him. The person who promised to stay with him until morning. But the moment Junior opened his eyes, the room was empty. Cold. Alone.Junior didn't like being lied to. He hated people who broke promise
Clarissa froze.That small voice—Junior's voice—made her blood instantly run cold.She turned quickly, finding her son already sitting up in bed, eyes sleepy but full of questions staring at her from within the darkness of the room."Mommy? What is Mommy doing?"Clarissa panicked. She hadn't expected Junior to wake up. Her mind raced, searching for an excuse."Oh, darling," she said, forcing a smile onto her face. "Mommy is just... thirsty. Mommy wants to get some water."Junior frowned. His small eyebrows furrowed, unsatisfied with that answer."But there's a dispenser in the room," he said quietly, pointing to the corner of the room. "Mommy doesn't need to go out."Clarissa startled. She glanced toward the dispenser Junior pointed at, then quickly recovered."Ah, right. Mommy forgot." She gave a small laugh, a sound that sounded forced. "Mommy is still sleepy, so she didn't remember."She walked to the dispenser, poured a little water into a glass, and pretended to drink it. Then sh
Mrs. Helen stared at Alina for a long time with an expression full of internal conflict.Twenty years.Twenty years Mrs. Helen had worked for the Blackwood family. Twenty years of keeping secrets, following orders, not interfering in family matters that weren't her business.Twenty years she had en
CHAPTER 52Morning came too quickly.Or perhaps not quickly enough. Alina wasn't sure anymore. Time had felt strange since she'd been confined to her room—too slow and too fast simultaneously, like a broken clock.At exactly eight o'clock, the sound of a large engine woke her from restless sleep.A
Mr. Harris hesitated briefly, then nodded and stepped away, clearing the path for Clarissa.Clarissa knocked on the door—twice, sharp—then entered without waiting for an answer.Alina stood at the window—still in the same position since the photoshoot began.Mrs. Helen sat on a chair in the corner
At ten past five in the evening, Alina's bedroom door opened slowly.Mrs. Helen entered with a dinner tray—chicken soup, white rice, and warm tea. But what made Alina's heart beat faster wasn't the food.Under the napkin covering the tray, there was something rectangular in shape. Small. Hidden.Mr







