Desmond guided Olive through the doors of the mansion, his hand firm on the small of her back. Olive moved slowly, still pale from her episode at the hospital, one hand occasionally brushing her stomach as if to steady herself and the life growing inside.He led her upstairs in silence, each step echoing. When they reached the room, the room he had once shared with Genevieve, Olive hesitated. The king-sized bed was still made with the crisp ivory linens Genevieve favored. Her favorite throw blanket lay folded at the foot. A faint trace of her perfume lingered in the air, delicate and floral.“I… I don’t like this place,” she said quietly, her voice uncertain.Desmond exhaled slowly, already tired. “You’re not here to like it. You’re here to rest.”He helped her sit, then gently lowered her onto the bed.As he stood to leave, her fingers tightened around his sleeve.“You left me at the hospital,” she said, voice breaking slightly. “One moment you were there, and then you were gone. Eve
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