ELDEN HOLLOW – LATER THAT NIGHT
Rain clung to the trees like sorrow that hadn't let go.
Lewis's black SUV crept along the gravel drive, its headlights cutting through mist and memory. The estate ahead rose from the hillside like something time forgot—stone walls laced in ivy, windows dark, the porch light a single amber eye watching the night.
This wasn't the De Salvo mansion.
It wasn't meant to be.
Elden Hollow had belonged to his brother once. Before grief made it his.
Now, it was his son's.
Lewis stepped out into the cold, shifting the small, warm bundle in his arms. The blanket swaddled Leo's tiny frame, his dark curls damp against his forehead, his breath slow against his father's neck.
In his little fist—Bella's scarf. Pale. Frayed at the ends. Clutched like treasure.
Lewis didn't ask why.
He already knew.
As they neared the porch, the soft hush of rain on stone, Leo stirred. His tiny fingers flexed.
"...Daddy?"
His voice was fragile, wrapped in sleep.
"I'm here," Lewis murmured.
Leo's eyes blinked open halfway. "Dis… our house?"
Lewis nodded, adjusting the boy in his arms. "Yes. We're home."
A pause. Just long enough for the question Lewis knew was coming.
"Angel… come here too?"
The words were slow. Sticky with sleep. Hopeful.
Lewis looked down at the small face pressed against his chest—the boy who rarely asked for anything, who barely spoke to anyone but him.
And yet, he remembered her.
Still held the scarf like she'd left a piece of herself behind.
"If she does…" Lewis said, voice quieter than the rain,
"we'll see who saves who."
He carried Leo up the steps, through the old wooden door that had never opened for anyone else.
Not until now.
And as it closed behind them, sealing out the storm, Lewis couldn't shake the thought:
Leo didn't just want her near.
He already belonged to her.