Elissa’s brows knit tightly, her face troubled by whatever she was dreaming. Her fingers clung desperately to the car door handle, and her lips—half hidden beneath a veil of dark, silky hair—murmured restless words.
Frank, seeing her caught in a nightmare, felt a surge of protectiveness. Wanting to reassure her, he inched closer, reaching out to draw her into his arms.
But the moment his fingers brushed her shoulder, Elissa flinched violently, pulling back as her eyes snapped open. “Rowan!” she cried out instinctively.
Brother.
She’d been dreaming of Rowan—how he’d rushed into that crumbling old factory to save her. But then the explosion came.
Her chest heaved with uneven breaths as she blinked, disoriented, at her surroundings. It took her a moment to realize she was still in the car.
And the car had stopped.
But they weren’t parked in front of Vistapeak Gardens.
Frank, hearing her whimper in her sleep, had called out for Rowan in his panic. The reaction only deepened his own sense of inadequacy—what kind of husband was he, if she called for another man in her fear?
He reached over, gently smoothing Elissa’s hair. His voice was soft. “Bad dream?”
“Yeah…” Elissa rubbed her eyes, glancing out the window. Only then did she notice they were parked at the gates of Greenwood Manor.
She turned her head, frowning at Frank. “Didn’t you say you’d take me back to Vistapeak Gardens?”
“Elissa,” Frank’s patience was stretched thin as he tried to coax her. “This is your real home, remember?”
After everything that had happened today, Frank was determined not to let it repeat—not to let her slip away from him again. He’d only just found her. He couldn’t bear for her to be in danger, not even for a moment.
“This stopped being my home a long time ago,” Elissa replied, barely listening. She pushed the car door open and stepped out.
From the moment Frank had let Marcia and her son move in, this house had nothing to do with her anymore.
Frank tried to lead her upstairs, but Elissa stopped, pulling free of his grasp. She walked toward the living room. “Let’s talk down here.”
Frank hesitated, watching her determined face, but found himself unable to argue. He followed, asking Edna to bring over a bowl of nourishing broth for Elissa. “Have something to eat first,” he urged quietly.
But Elissa only felt drained. “Is it really that hard to say?” she asked, her voice weary.
He’d never been one to shy away from uncomfortable truths before. No matter how unreasonable his demands, he’d always made them sound simple and justified. What was different this time? Had his conscience finally woken up?
“Little Elissa…” Frank paused for a long while, struggling to find the words. At last, he spoke, voice gentle but trembling slightly. “Do you remember that car accident nineteen years ago? The one where you saved a little boy?”
Elissa froze, caught off guard.
It was so long ago—her memory of it faded, nearly erased by all the suffering that had followed. Nineteen years was a long time to survive in the shadows; pain and darkness had eaten away at her childhood recollections, leaving only fragments behind.

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