30: Home is Not Always a Place

For a few seconds, no one moved.

Elena stood at the entrance of Blackwood Mansion, staring at the elderly man before her. The years had added more wrinkles to his face, and his once-dark hair had turned almost completely gray.

Yet his gentle eyes were exactly the way she remembered them.

"My child..." he said again, his voice trembling with emotion.

Elena felt her eyes sting.

"Grandpa..."

The old man smiled through his tears and slowly opened his arms.

Without thinking, Elena ran to him.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, as if he were afraid she would disappear again.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered.

"I'm sorry," Elena replied, her voice breaking. "I should have come to see you."

He gently shook his head.

"No. You're here now. That's enough."

They remained like that for a long moment before finally pulling away.

Standing a short distance behind Elena, Damian watched quietly. He didn't interrupt. He simply gave them the time they needed.

Elena turned toward him.

"Grandpa... this is Damian Blackwood."

Damian stepped forward politely and extended his hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Her grandfather shook his hand firmly.

"I've heard your name before."

Damian smiled politely.

"I hope only good things."

The old man chuckled.

"So far, yes."

He glanced at Elena before adding, "Thank you for giving my granddaughter a place to stay."

Damian answered honestly.

"She doesn't have to thank me. She's always welcome here."

Elena looked away, suddenly embarrassed.

Mrs. Harper, who had been watching from the doorway, couldn't hide her smile.

"Everyone's standing outside," she said warmly. "Come in before dinner gets cold."

The tension eased immediately.

Dinner was surprisingly peaceful.

Mrs. Harper filled the table with delicious homemade dishes, insisting that Elena's grandfather try everything.

The old man laughed.

"I haven't eaten this much in years."

Mrs. Harper smiled proudly.

"Then tonight is a special occasion."

For the first time in days, Elena found herself laughing without forcing it.

She noticed Damian watching the conversation quietly.

Whenever her grandfather needed something, Damian passed it to him before anyone else noticed.

He wasn't trying to impress anyone.

It simply came naturally.

That small act didn't escape Elena's attention.

Neither did the warmth she felt because of it.

After dinner, Elena walked her grandfather into the garden.

The night air was cool, and the mansion grounds were peaceful.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Finally, her grandfather broke the silence.

"You're smiling again."

Elena looked surprised.

"Am I?"

He nodded.

"You stopped smiling after your parents died."

Her smile slowly faded.

"I tried."

"I know."

He gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I also know you've been carrying too much by yourself."

Elena lowered her eyes.

"I didn't want to worry you."

"My child," he said softly, "that's what family is for."

His words settled deep inside her heart.

She wanted to tell him everything.

About the divorce.

About the baby.

About the one-night mistake that had changed her life.

But the words refused to come.

Not yet.

From the study window upstairs, Damian accidentally noticed Elena and her grandfather talking in the garden.

He smiled to himself.

For the first time since she arrived at Blackwood Mansion, she looked... peaceful.

His phone suddenly vibrated.

It was his assistant.

"Sir, we've located Margaret."

Damian's expression became serious.

"Did she agree to meet?"

"Yes."

"But she said she'll only tell the truth if Miss Elena is present."

Damian looked out the window again.

His gaze rested on Elena.

"Arrange the meeting."

"I'll bring Elena myself."

Outside, Elena and her grandfather slowly made their way back toward the house.

Just before reaching the entrance, he stopped walking.

"There is something I need to tell you," he said quietly.

Elena looked at him.

"What is it?"

He hesitated, as though struggling to find the right words.

Then he sighed.

"I should have told you years ago."

Before he could continue, Damian stepped outside.

"Elena," he called gently. "Margaret has agreed to meet us."

Both Elena and her grandfather turned toward him.

The old man's expression changed the instant he heard Margaret's name.

His face lost its color.

"You know Margaret?" Elena asked in surprise.

He didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he whispered to himself,

"So... she's finally ready."

Elena's heart began to race.

What connection did her grandfather have with Margaret?

And why did everyone seem to know the truth about her life except her?