HARRY's POV
I heard the car pull into the driveway just before I made it to the second floor. I paused, one hand on the banister, and waited. There was no reason to rush—I wasn't sure what I'd say to her anyway.
A part of me had stayed on edge all morning. Not because I was worried, exactly, but because she hadn't left my mind since she walked out in that robe—bruised, beautiful, and holding her son like he was the last good thing in the world.
She still doesn't know. The power she carries when she walks into a room. Not just her face or her body—though God knows it's impossible to ignore—but her resilience. It clings to her like a second skin.
I heard the front door open.
"You two find everything okay?" I called down finally, leaning over the railing.
Eva looked up at me with her arms full of bags and a baby half-asleep on her chest. She looked… different. Not just clean. Not just better dressed. But alive. Like someone who'd been underwater for too long and was finally breathing again.
"We did," she said with a smile. "Maybe a little too much."
"There's no such thing," I said, starting down the stairs.
She paused at the bottom, waiting for me to come to her. I glanced at the bags—clothes for her, formula, wipes, even a frog toy. She hadn't wasted anything. She bought only what she needed.
And still, she looked like she didn't believe she deserved even that.
"I hope this wasn't too much," she said more quietly now. "You've already done so much—"
"Stop," I said, gently but firmly. "You don't have to thank me every five minutes. Just let me help."
She nodded, but she didn't quite meet my eyes. "
I watched as she started up the stairs with him again, the frog dangling from one hand. And then I remembered the conversation we had in the car on her favorite cartoon growing up about "something called a frog"
That image stayed with me—the back of her robe moving as she climbed, Naveen tucked close, and that frog swinging like a symbol of some tiny reclaimed childhood.
She was trying. Fighting. Healing.
And I'd be damned if I let anything drag her back to where she came from.
Just as I was about going upstairs one of the helpers came to me. My mother has asked for me. I know what the conversation was going to be so
I took my time heading upstairs. Knocked once—firm, respectful.
"Come in."
Her voice was smooth, always composed. Never raised, never rushed. It was the kind of tone that made you straighten your spine even when she was asking if you wanted tea.
I stepped inside.
She was perched on the edge of her chaise, a glass of white wine in hand and a stack of papers she wasn't reading balanced on her lap.
"You took your time," she said without looking at me.
"You called. I came."
"You always were dramatic," she replied coolly, taking a sip.
I waited.
Finally, she set the glass down and turned those ice-blue eyes on me. "So. Eva."
Here we go.
"She seems… sweet," my mother said, as if the word itself was offensive. "In a very lost, very dependent sort of way. You've taken her in. That much is obvious."
"She needed help."
"You've never been in the habit of rescuing women with children. What's different about this one?"
"She's not like anyone I've met."
My mother's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Clearly. She's walking around in your clothes and sleeping in my house."
"She's a guest. Temporarily."I immediately said.
"Temporarily." She repeated the word like it tasted sour. "You forget I know you, Harrison. You don't let just anyone get this close. So either she's very special—or you're in over your head"
I know my mother and what this conversation is all about. "I promised her I'd help. Forcing her and her child out now would make a liar out of me."I said
Her response was sharp, uncompromising. "Then put her up in a hotel. Give her money if that's what she needs. But she can't stay here, Harrison."
She was done playing nice. I could see it in her eyes—she wanted Eva gone. But I wasn't ready to give in.
"If you make her leave," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them, "I'll buy a house and then she can stay."
Silence.
Her face twisted in disbelief,
"You would leave me, your mother, for some girl?" she snapped. "Who even is she? What will your brother think?"
"Scotty doesn't need to be involved in this," I replied firmly. "And I'm not going to leave her to fend for herself. She needs to stay close—here, with the guards—somewhere safe. Somewhere far from her husband."
"Husband?" My mother's voice cracked in shock. "She's married? Harrison, when and where on earth did you find this woman?"
"Yesterday," I said,"I was on my way to a meeting when I saw her. Her husband's hitting her—in the middle of the street. I had the boys take care of him, and I brought her here. I just want her safe. She can go when I know she's no longer in danger."
"She's someone else's wife, and you brought her into our home?" Her voice rose. "You can't do that, Harrison! Do you have any idea what kind of scandal that could cause? What if her husband comes after us? What if he has more power, more influence than we do? Did that even cross your mind?"you can keep someone's wife in your house
"I don't think he will be a problem " I said. But my mother's word stuck
Not once. Have I acted on instinct, and not logic. And now I was caught between protecting Eva and honoring my responsibility to my mother.
I couldn't keep Eva here she's right. Not while she was still married. And not with my mother standing in opposition.And to be honest with myself I could never leave my mother alone.
There was only one solution.
Without another word, I left my mother's room and walked straight to Eva's. I paused outside her door, took a deep breath, and knocked.
She opened it slowly, looking surprised to see me.
I met her eyes and said the one thing I never imagined myself saying—to someone I had met barely 48hours ago.