PART 2: The Child Beneath the Wildflower Bracelet

Not theatrically.

Almost sadly, as if regret were something she had known for a long time but preferred handing to other people.

Then she walked away.

Her heels sank slightly into the wet grass with every step.

I watched her disappear through the fog, and only after the door of her car closed did I realize I had been holding my breath.

Damon came back to me.

“Emma.”

I looked up.

He extended his hand.

I hesitated before taking it.

His fingers closed around mine, steady and warm, and he helped me to my feet with such careful restraint that my eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. I was tired enough that kindness felt dangerous. One gentle gesture and every defense I had spent years building began to loosen.

“I’m taking you to a doctor,” he said.

“I don’t need—”

“Yes,” he interrupted softly. “You do.”

I almost argued. Pride rose automatically, familiar and useless.

Then the baby moved beneath my hand.

A small flutter.

A reminder.

Not just me anymore.

“All right,” I whispered.

Damon’s gaze lowered briefly to my stomach, then returned to my face. There was wonder there, quickly hidden. Grief too, though I did not yet understand why.

As he guided me toward the cemetery path, I looked back at my mother’s grave. The daisies were ruined. Mud streaked the stone. My throat tightened.

Damon followed my gaze.

“We’ll come back,” he said.

I did not ask how he knew I needed to hear that.

At the car, a man with silver hair opened the back door. His expression was kind but unreadable.

“Hospital or private clinic, sir?” he asked.

“Dr. Vale,” Damon said. “Call ahead.”

The man nodded.

I stopped before getting in.

“I can’t go anywhere with you.”

Damon turned to me.

“You can.”

“No.” My voice came out stronger than I expected. “You don’t understand. I work for the Caldwells. I live in the staff room over their garage. My things are there. My papers. My mother’s photographs. If Vanessa gets back before I do, she’ll throw everything away.”

A muscle moved in Damon’s cheek.

“What papers?”

“My birth certificate. Medical records. A lease application I’ve been filling out.” I swallowed. “And the ultrasound.”

His eyes changed at that.

For one second, something unguarded crossed his face.

“You have an ultrasound?”

I nodded.

“From last week.”