142
Dominic was still the one driving. His grip on the wheel was tight, his knuckles flexing, jaw clenched in deep concentration or deep homicidal urges or possibly both.
Tina had gone unnervingly silent, which meant either she was on the verge of passing out, or she had finally accepted her tragic fate. Her head lolled against the window, her eyes fluttering open and shut, bloodshot as hell. Her lips were cracked, her hands visibly trembling, and she was so pale that if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought she had just crawled out of a Victorian ghost novel.
Sweat drenched her dark hair, tangling the strands into a tragic mess against her forehead, and her whole body was hunched over like a wet cat that had been through a hurricane and regretted every life choice that led to this moment.
The sunset slashed across the car, bleeding gold over everything. The dying light painted the side of her face in hues of burnt orange and honey, making her look almost angelic, if angels were constantly pissed off and half-dead.
I leaned forward, keeping my voice as calm as possible. "Just a little more, Tina. We’re almost there."
She let out a noise. A soft, gurgling, suffering noise.
Adam was still asleep, still completely oblivious to how far we had brought him from Central park. His arms were locked around my waist, his face buried so deep into my stomach that he might as well be trying to phase through my body. His hot breath was seeping through my shirt, and his entire existence was melting my thighs.
"Okay, buddy, time to wake up."
I shifted slightly, attempting to shove him off when Dominic’s green eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror.
"I got him," he said. Calm. Unbothered. Like he hadn’t just been sentenced to carrying a fully grown human child into a house with the struggle we had just undergone.
I was about to argue when Tina, the Victorian ghost, decided to return from the grave just to be an asshole. Her eyes remained shut, but she dragged in a long, rattling breath. Then:
"Oh my God."
A dramatic sigh. A pause.
"Are you two trying to be parents? Is that what this is? Because if so, I’d rather just—" She weakly lifted a shaky, frail-ass hand and flopped it over her face like a dying swan. "—just fucking die now."
Silence.
Then, in the most unbothered tone I had ever heard, Dominic:
"Can you? Can you just die already?"
I choked.
Tina let out a wheezy, corpse-like laugh, then groaned, like the act of breathing was physically painful.
"You’re such a dick, you know."
"And yet, here you are, still breathing."
"Unfortunately."
I was cry-laughing at this point, clutching Adam’s sweaty body to keep from shaking too hard.
Dominic sighed, shaking his head. "This is what I get for saving your ungrateful ass."
"You didn’t save shit," Tina muttered, her voice so weak she sounded like she was about to ascend to the afterlife. "You just drove."
"Yeah? Well, next time I’ll make sure to hit a few more potholes and see how well your organs hold up."
Tina groaned dramatically. "You’re so violent. Eleanor, do something. Your boyfriend is abusing me."
I coughed, horribly, violently. "He’s not my—"
"She’s not my—"
Silence.
Dominic’s gaze flicked to mine in the mirror. I immediately looked out the window.
Tina snorted, a gross, painful-sounding snort. "Yeah, okay. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
The car slowed as we turned down the final stretch of road leading to the estate.
The trees swallowed the road whole, thick and shadowed, their branches curling like fingers reaching toward the car. The sky was slipping into darkness, the last streaks of pink and gold barely clinging to the horizon. And then, through the dense foliage, the estate emerged.
Still massive. Still looming. Still carrying the weight of ghosts I wasn’t ready to face.
Tina had gone quiet again.
And for the first time in two years, I was about to step foot back into the one place I had sworn I’d never return to.
And yet, here I was.
The estate loomed beyond the thick treeline, its dark silhouette standing against the bleeding hues of the setting sun. The place was shrouded in eerie quiet, the surrounding woods thick and unmoving, like the whole world had pressed pause.
I knew what lay beyond the gates: the sprawling gravel driveway, the well-manicured lawns stretching endlessly in both directions, the ivy that curled up the stone walls, weaving through cracks like nature’s attempt at reclaiming the place. The windows were dark, but that meant nothing.
Isabella could be inside.
She should be inside.
Months ago, I had told her to fire every other worker. I hadn’t needed them. Not when I wasn’t here. I had told her to hire help only when necessary—one-day jobs, nothing more.
So if she had listened to me, she was alone.
I hoped she was alone.
Dominic didn’t hesitate once the car stopped. His door groaned as he pushed it open and stepped out, his shoes hitting the ground with a dull thud. The absence of his warmth was immediate, the air inside the car suddenly cooler.
I barely had time to brace myself before his hand reached in.
"I got him," he murmured.
Adam was still clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth. His arms were wound tight around my waist, his face pressed into my stomach, and his breathing was soft, warm, even.
He wouldn’t let go.
Not even when Dominic’s arms slid around him, trying to pry him off me.
A small pang of something sharp and unexpected lodged itself in my chest at the way the boy resisted, his small fingers fisting my shirt tighter for a brief moment before Dominic finally managed to pull him away.
The sound that left Adam’s lips was a murmured protest, sleepy and almost inaudible, and my heart clenched.
Dominic adjusted him effortlessly, shifting his weight, his large hand cradling the back of Adam’s head as he settled him against his chest.
A deep, barely-there grunt slipped from his lips as he straightened.
I noticed it immediately.
The way his jaw tensed, the way his muscles flexed beneath his jacket, the way his body stiffened against the pain.
I knew what that was.
Not just the strain of lifting a child who refused to make it any easier, but the wound. His wound.
The one he wasn’t letting heal.
My breath hitched for just a second, my fingers curling into my palms as I watched him shift Adam’s head against his shoulder.
I should say something.
I should tell him to be careful, to give me the boy back, to stop pushing himself.
But before I could, my eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror.
And I found Tina staring at me.
She looked like she had been dragged through hell and left there for dead.
And yet… she still found the strength to open her mouth.
"Jesus Christ," she rasped, her voice hoarse but still dripping with dry amusement. "Could you eye-fuck him a little harder, Eleanor? I don’t think he felt it enough."
I blinked.
Then scowled.
"Shut up and hold your damn wound tighter."
Tina let out a weak, breathy snort before groaning dramatically, her head rolling back against the seat.
Dominic huffed but didn’t say anything.
I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car.
The air outside was cool and thick, the fading sunlight stretching long shadows across the ground. The scent of damp earth and pine wrapped around me, grounding me for just a second as my boots hit the dirt.
The estate stood beyond the gate, towering and silent.
Everything looked the same.
And yet… something felt off.
Maybe it was just in my head. Maybe it was the weight of returning to a place I had sworn to leave behind. Maybe it was the past pressing in too hard, too fast.
Or maybe it was the overwhelming feeling that something was waiting for me on the other side.
Tina shifted in her seat, forcing herself to sit up slightly. Barely.
"Okay," she rasped, blinking at me sluggishly. "What now?"
I didn’t answer right away.
I let my gaze sweep the perimeter, taking in every shadow, every dark corner where something, or someone, could be lurking.
My fingers twitched.
"I’m going to check the perimeter," I said finally. "Make sure it’s clear before we step in."
Tina squinted at me.
Then frowned.
"Isn’t this… yours?"
I turned my head, met her gaze, and held it.
"Yes," I said slowly. "But I still have a hired maid."
Tina stared.
Then she let out another long, drawn-out groan and flopped back against the seat like I had just told her we were about to run a goddamn marathon.
"You’re so fucking weird."
I exhaled a slow breath, not quite a laugh.
Then, without another word, I turned and walked toward the gate.
Because whether this place belonged to me or not, it didn’t feel like mine anymore.
It felt like I was stepping into a memory I hadn’t fully buried.
And for the first time in years, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face it.
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