CHAPTER THREE

The clouds drifted past the window as the plane dipped inside, the skyline of the city slowly unfolding beneath us. My stomach knot, not from the landing but from everything that waited for me down there.

Yesterday felt like a movie. After leaving with Mason, I found myself back at the house, relieved to see my mother wasn’t around. I don’t think I would have had the strength to face her questions or her judgment. Mason had fallen asleep in the car, his small head tilted against my shoulder as I carried him upstairs. I tucked him into his bed carefully, making sure he was comfortable, smoothing the blanket over his tiny body. He didn’t stir not even once.

I stood in his doorway for a moment longer than I should have, just watching him breathe. My little boy was always my anchor, even when the rest of the world felt like it was falling apart.

Then I forced myself into motion. I dragged two suitcases out of Mason’s walk-in closet and started packing his things clothes, shoes, his favorite pajamas with the little dinosaurs. I didn’t take everything, though. A part of me couldn’t bring myself to empty his room completely. Maybe it was hope… or maybe denial. Some part of me knew I’d be back here again, no matter how much I wanted to stay away.

When I finished, I peeked into his room again. He was still sound asleep, his lips parted, his lashes long against his cheeks. Relief washed over me.

Then it was my turn. I crossed the hall into my room, pulled out my own suitcases, and packed the essentials clothes, toiletries, a few keepsakes I couldn’t leave behind. I also slipped in some of Mason’s toys and books that had somehow migrated to my room over time. By the time I zipped the last bag shut, my muscles ached.

Still, I checked on him once more. Always once more.

Downstairs, I busied myself with dinner. Something simple, something warm anything to quiet the silence of the house. That was when Harper walked in, her hair messy from the wind, her eyes instantly finding mine. She didn’t have to ask if I was okay; she already knew the answer. We talked for a while, though half the time I couldn’t even tell you what about. Just her presence was enough. By the time we finally went to bed, exhaustion dragged me under.

And now here we were, the next morning, stepping off my private jet.

I can almost hear the unspoken question in people’s heads: How the hell does she afford a jet? The truth is… I can. Because I’ve built something quietly, something no one in my family even knows about. I’m a songwriter. A published author. Anonymous, of course. Nobody knows it’s me behind the words except Harper. But soon very soon I’ll be stepping out of the shadows. My name will finally be tied to my work. For once, I’ll claim it.

“Let’s go, big guy,” I said softly, brushing Mason’s shoulder until his eyes fluttered open.

He yawned, rubbed his face, and blinked up at me. Harper was already off the jet, her phone glued to her hands, while one of the attendants carried our luggage down the stairs. I pulled out my phone and called my mother, letting her know we’d landed. She promised to send two cars for us. With the amount of suitcases we had, I wasn’t surprised.

“Are we there yet?” Mason asked, his voice groggy but curious.

“Almost, honey. Almost.”

His little brow furrowed. “Am I going to school here?” His tone carried a kind of hopefulness that squeezed my chest.

I hesitated, fumbling for words. The truth was, I didn’t know how long I’d last here. How long before the memories swallowed me up again? How long before my mother’s coldness pushed me out the door?

“Maybe, baby,” I said, kissing the top of his head.

We stood together, watching the drivers load our things into the waiting cars. Mason’s small fingers slipped into mine, warm and trusting.

“Let’s go, Mommy!” he squealed suddenly, tugging me toward the front car. His excitement was contagious, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I followed him.

I opened the door to find Harper already inside, hunched over her phone. She didn’t even look up.

“Temple Run?” I teased, sliding in beside her.

She smirked but didn’t deny it. Mason climbed eagerly into the seat, and I strapped him in, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“So,” Harper said, finally glancing at me. “We’re home.”

I nodded, though the word felt heavy. “Yeah. We’re home.”

“You think anything has changed?” she asked, her voice quieter this time.

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I ran my fingers through Mason’s hair as he played a game on my phone, his little giggles filling the car. My throat tightened.

“I think everything has changed,” I said at last.

Harper leaned back with a sigh. “That’s what I thought. Well… at least we have each other.”

A small smile curved my lips. “Yeah. We have each other.”

The ride didn’t take long. Before I knew it, the driver was pulling through the iron gates, and the mansion loomed in front of us. Mason’s face lit up as he pressed his hands against the glass. His excitement radiated through the car.

“We’re here,” I told him, though he was already bouncing in his seat.

“Whoa,” he whispered, wide-eyed as he stared at the mansion. He’d seen houses before, of course, but not like this. Not one that belonged to us.

“You wanna go inside?” I teased, even though I knew the answer.

“Yes, please!” he shouted, wriggling free of his seatbelt before I could stop him.

He bolted up the steps, his laughter echoing. I chased after him, scooping him up halfway and tickling his sides. His giggles turned into squeals, his little voice breaking as he cried out, “Aunty Harper, help!”

Harper only smirked from the bottom of the steps. “My hands are full,” she said, clearly amused.

Mason gasped in horror before breaking into another fit of laughter. Finally, I set him down, and he darted toward the last step with renewed determination.

“Alright, you two,” I said, my own voice shaking now that we were here. “Ready?”

Mason nodded eagerly. Harper gave a solemn nod, her lips pressed tight.

Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand and knocked.

The seconds stretched. My palms felt damp. My mind spun through every possible scenario of who would open the door: my mother, a maid, maybe even no one at all. But none of the pictures in my head prepared me for the face that appeared when the door finally swung open.

I froze. My heart stopped.

“Ethan,” I whispered.