SOFIA’S POV “Mummy!” Renzo called out immediately when he saw me. I rushed forward, dropping to my knees beside the chair and pulling him gently into my arms. “I am right here, baby. Right here.” My son looked small against the pillows, his dark curls were messy, his eyes were heavy but curious. Tubes trailed from his arm, but color had returned to his cheeks. He buried his face in my neck, his small hands clutching my shirt. I stroked his back in slow circles, breathing him in, feeling the steady beat of his heart against mine. For the first time in years, the fear that had lived in my bones began to loosen its grip.Renzo lifted his head and stared past me. His gaze locked on Lorenzo, who sat in the wheelchair a few feet away, bandages visible under his hospital gown. It was then the resemblance hit me like a physical blow. Renzo’s stubborn chin, the shape of his eyes, the way his brows drew together when he concentrated—every feature mirrored Lorenzo so perfectly it stole my br
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