Blackwood Mansion — Saturday, 6:00 AM
Third Person POV
Elena woke to the faint scent of cedarwood and clean linen.
Soft curtains swayed with the early morning breeze, a thin ribbon of dawn stretching across the unfamiliar room. For several seconds, she simply lay there, disoriented, waiting for her mind to catch up with her body.
This wasn't her room.
This wasn't her home.
A soft knock broke the fragile stillness.
A maid stepped inside, hands clasped tightly.
"You're awake, miss. This is the Blackwood estate — Master Alexander's private wing." She bowed. "I'll inform him right away."
The door shut.
Elena's heart lurched. She shoved the sheets aside and grabbed the neatly folded clothes on the armchair, her hands trembling as she dressed.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway—
Firm.
Steady.
Growing closer.
She barely pulled the shirt over her head when the door opened.
Alexander stood there. His shoulders were tense, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion and a tenderness she wasn't prepared to face.
"You're awake," he exhaled, relief pouring out of him like he had been holding his breath all night. "Thank God."
Elena swallowed.
"How long was I out?"
"Ten hours," he said, voice low—almost guilty. "You collapsed. You… scared everyone."
Ten hours.
Her mind snapped into focus.
"My son."
Alexander blinked.
"Elena—"
"My son," she repeated sharply, panic slicing through her tone. "Where is he? I need to go!"
She pushed past him, urgency devouring everything else. Alexander followed instantly.
"Elena—wait. Let me at least drive you—"
She didn't slow down.
They reached the massive hallway, sunlight spilling over the marble floors as she stormed forward and he tried to keep up.
"Elena—just one dinner. Tomorrow. I'll arrange everything—"
She stopped so abruptly he nearly collided with her.
"Dinner?" she said, disbelief bright and sharp. "I've been unconscious for ten hours. I haven't seen my son. And you're asking me to dinner?"
His shoulders stiffened, but he didn't back down. "You need to eat. The chefs are exceptional. French, Italian, Japanese—anything you want."
He winced inwardly. He sounded ridiculous, didn't he? He didn't know how to say what he really wanted to say—that he needed her to stay, that he didn't want her to disappear again. So, he focused on the only thing he could offer her: food.
"Alexander," she said, cold and cutting.
He fell silent.
"Stop talking about dinner."
He softened. "You can bring your kid. I don't mind—"
Her entire face hardened.
"Don't mention him."
Her voice was cold as ice.
"Don't ever mention my son."
And she walked out.
Alexander stood frozen. His jaw clenched; his eyes softened with something close to ache. "Why couldn't I tell her the truth that I needed her to stay?", he thought to himself.
He considered calling her back.
But he didn't.
Chasing her now would shatter whatever fragile bridge remained between them.
Alexander walked back to his office with slow, deliberate steps, the weight of her words pressing on him like lead. He sank into the chair behind his desk, burying his face in his hands. His temples throbbed, and his breath felt shallow, almost ragged. She was gone. Again.
His gaze drifted to the far corner of the room, where the sunlight fell in soft streaks over the polished wood floor. The memory came unbidden, threading itself through his thoughts, sharp and clear.
Hazel had stood in this very spot. He could still see her, her fingers trembling as she clasped them together, her shoulders stiff with the weight of words she didn't want to say.
"I saw the way you held her," she had whispered, her voice barely above the hum of the antique lamp on his desk. "The way you touched her… that wasn't instinct, Alexander. That was recognition."
He had tried to interrupt her, his throat tightening. "Haze—"
But she wouldn't let him. "I don't want to come between you two," she had said, her voice breaking despite her effort to stay strong. "I don't want to spend my life competing with a past I can't erase."
She had stood there for what felt like hours, her words hanging between them like a fragile thread. Then she had taken a deep breath, steadying herself, and said something he never expected. "I'm ending the engagement."
Her soft, sad smile had nearly undone him. "Elena is my friend now," she had said quietly. "Please… take care of her."
And then she had walked out, leaving him in a silence so heavy, it had felt suffocating.
Alexander let out a long, uneven breath, dragging his hands down his face as the memory faded. The room felt too small now, the walls closing in.
***
ELENA'S HOME
Evan sat curled on the couch, knees to his chest, eyes glued to the door like he could force her to return by sheer will.
When Elena stepped inside—
"Mommy!"
He launched himself at her. Elena dropped to her knees, pulling him into a fierce embrace.
She inhaled his familiar scent and finally allowed her heart rate to slow down.
"What happened?" he mumbled into her shoulder.
She stroked his curls.
"Some people aren't who they pretend to be, Evan."
He frowned, sensing something was wrong.
She held him by the shoulders.
"I need you to listen to me very carefully."
He nodded.
"Don't trust anyone wearing all red. Do you understand?"
Confusion flickered in his eyes, but he nodded again.
"Why Mommy?", he asked.
She kissed his forehead and hugged him tighter.
"It's okay Evan. Mummy just needs you to be safe."
***
TUESDAY — TRINITY COLLEGE
Morning arrived too quickly.
Elena dressed Evan, tied his laces, and packed his lunch, her movements sharp and mechanical — the motions of a woman running on adrenaline, not rest.
At the school gate, she crouched in front of him.
"Be good today, okay?"
"I will!" he chirped, dragging his rolling bag across the walkway.
Elena watched until he disappeared inside.
Only then did she let her shoulders fall.
She climbed into a cab and headed to work.
*
FEDERAL HOSPITAL, WAN STATE — SAME DAY
The hospital was alive with its usual chaos—ringing phones, rushing footsteps, clipped conversations that overlapped like static.
Elena had barely stepped inside when her tablet vibrated.
THE CNO WANTS TO SEE YOU.
IMMEDIATELY.
Her pulse kicked.
She smoothed her hair, steadied her breathing, and knocked on the office door.
It opened.
And there he was—
A familiar profile.
A familiar stance.
A familiar heartbreak.
Julian turned slowly, giving her a small, hesitant smile.
"Elena," he said softly. "It's… been a long time."
Her chest tightened painfully and her breath caught in her throat.
Not him.
Not today.