Lucas leaned into Liam, satisfied.
And I followed them.
The private elevator rose silently to the penthouse level. The boys stood close together, their small shoulders brushing. Claire held the backpack, which Lucas had reluctantly surrendered after I promised no one would throw it away.
The doors opened into marble, muted lights, and panoramic glass.
The boys stared.
My residence had been designed to impress adults who understood money. To a child, it must have looked like a museum no one was allowed to touch.
Lucas whispered, “Do you live in a hotel?”
“No,” Claire said warmly. “But it does feel like one, doesn’t it?”
Liam looked around. “Where are your toys?”
I almost laughed, but it caught somewhere in my throat.
“I don’t have any.”
Lucas frowned. “Not even cars?”
“No.”
“Blocks?”
“No.”
“Dinosaurs?”
“No.”
He looked deeply concerned. “That’s sad.”
Claire turned away, pretending to check her phone.
For the first time that morning, a smile touched my mouth.
The guest suite had two beds, white blankets, a low sofa, and windows looking east over the city. Claire had already ordered children’s clothes, pajamas, toothbrushes, and more food than two little boys could eat in a week.
Lucas ran a hand over the blanket as if testing whether it was real.
Liam stood by the door.
“Can we stay together?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Can the door stay open?”
“Yes.”
“Can we keep the light on?”
“Yes.”
Every answer seemed to loosen one thread of tension in him.
Claire placed the backpack on the sofa. Lucas immediately unzipped it and pulled out a stuffed rabbit with one missing eye, a small plastic fire truck, two folded shirts, and a children’s book with worn corners.
Then he pulled out a photograph.
I saw it upside down in his hand and still recognized Emma’s smile.
“May I see that?” I asked.
Lucas hugged it to his chest.
I stopped moving.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have to.”
He watched me for a long second before crossing the room. He handed me the photo with both hands, as if lending me something sacred.
Emma sat on a park bench between the boys, one arm around each of them. Her hair was shorter than I remembered, tucked behind her ears. There were faint lines near her eyes, the kind life carves without asking permission. But she was still Emma.
Warm. Alert. Beautiful in a way that had never needed attention.
On the back, written in blue ink, were three words.
For someday. E.
The handwriting was hers.
I stared until the letters blurred.
“Is she coming back?” Lucas asked.
I looked at him.
A lifetime of lies waited on my tongue, each one more convenient than the last.
“I don’t know,” I said.
His face fell, but Liam nodded, as if he preferred a painful truth to a pretty lie.
“Then we should find her,” Liam said.
“We will.”
The promise entered the room quietly, but once spoken, it changed everything.
After the boys fell asleep, curled on separate beds but holding hands across the small space between them, I stood in the doorway longer than I meant to.
Claire came to stand beside me.
“You should rest too,” she said.
“I don’t rest when people leave children in my lobby.”
“No,” she said. “You usually make other people stop resting.”
I glanced at her.
A faint smile passed over her face and vanished. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
She folded her arms. “What do you want me to do?”
“Find Margaret Vale. Find Emma. Quietly. No street panic, no pressure that sends people running. I want information, not theater.”
“That sounds almost reasonable.”
“I’m capable of reasonable.”
“Today?”
I deserved that.
I walked into the hall, lowering my voice. “Who knows?”
“Me. Dr. Reynolds. Three guards from the morning shift. House staff preparing the suite.”
“Replace the guards on shift. Not punishment. Just keep them away from anyone curious.”
“Already done.”