At the Smith residence, Meredith arrived with Dahlia in tow, chatting andughing with Cecilia.

Barely past her first birthday, Dahlia already sensed adult moods. She toddled over with a slice of fruit, offering it to Cecilia in hopes of earning a smile.

Meredith''s sigh slipped out. "A child this tiny shouldn''t have to be so considerate. It breaks my heart."

"Yes," Cecilia murmured.

Cecilia, too, found the girl pitiful.

What baffled her most was how Cassandra-Dahlia''s own mother-could be so cold to the child.

After ying for a while, Dahlia grew drowsy, climbed onto a velvet chaise, and drifted into sleep without a fuss.

A maid tried to lift her. Dahlia startled awake, eyes wide with fear, until they found Meredith.

Meredith stood at once and gathered the trembling child into her arms.

"It''s all right," she whispered, voice soft as a feather. "We''re at Cecilia''s house, and Mommy is right here."

Only then did Dahlia rx, cheek pressed against Meredith''s shoulder-still without uttering a single word.

When sleep reimed her, Meredith kept holding her, unwilling to loosen the fragile peace.

"Lay her on the bed," Cecilia urged. "It''s tiring for you to hold her like this."

Meredith shook her head. "She wakes the moment I let go. She needs me beside her; otherwise, the nightmarese."

Grief edged her next words. "Since I brought her home, she often sits alone,

staring into space. She hasn''t even started talking yet."

Cecilia nodded, eyes shining with unspoken sympathy.

Meredith pressed a gentle kiss to Dahlia''s brow, a tiny gesture brimming with fierce resolve.

"It''s gettingte," she said, slipping her bag over one shoulder. "Ceci, we''ll head back now."

Cecilia walked with them to the porch, her heels ticking softly across the marble like a metronome for good-byes. At the threshold, she paused, shoulders squared yet eyes tender, determined to escort this small piece of warmth all the way to the gate. Outside, dusk had thinned into the violet hush thates just before the streetlights wake.

"Ms. Seiler, please bring Dahlia over again-okay? I want her to y with me next time, too," Elliot called, cupping his hands around his mouth as though afraid the breeze might steal the plea away.

"Of course," Meredith answered,ughter rippling in her voice like sunlight on water.

She eased into the back seat with Dahlia nestled against her chest. One arm steadied the child, the other pulled the door shut in slow motion, every gesture whisper-quiet so the sleeping girl would dream on undisturbed.

In Meredith''s arms, Dahlia felt rarer than starlight bottled-something no fortune could rece, something fragile enough to break if the world so much as breathed too loudly.

Elliot remained on the top step long after the car had glided down the drive. Brake lights winked, disappeared, and still he stood there, small hand raised in a lonely salute that finally dropped to his side.

Cecilia watched him, curiosity softening her tone. "Elliot, do you like Dahlia that much?" she asked, tilting her head so her dark hair slipped forward like a question mark beside her cheek.

"I do. She''s really, really cute," he replied, as though the statement were an immutable fact written into the sky.

"But when Amy went back to the Faust residence, you didn''t look half this sad. Isn''t she adorable, too?" Her voice carried genuine confusion; in her mind,

Amelia''s fine features outshone most adults, let alone children.

Amy''s face is practically porcin. By looks alone, she should have every child''s vote. Baffled, she waited for her son''s verdict.

"Amy''s lovely, but she''s like a little

boy-always climbing trees, sword-fighting with sticks. I guess like girls who behave more like Dahlia Elliot said with an honest

shrug, as if the preference were as natural as breathing.

belongs to s

His answer sounded perfectly logical to him, a verdict delivered with the solemnity

of a judge but the innocence of eight-year-old certainty.

Amelia had indeed spent her toddler years in the Smith household, trailing Elliot through corridors like a mischievous shadow. Pretty as a doll, she could also be

rowdy stealing his toy carvelon &

wrestling for the top bunk,ughing when she won.  s

She chased him acrosswns, snatched controllers from his hands, and squealed

in triumph. No wonder the boy now leaned toward the gentler presence that was Dahlia.

Dahlia, by contrast, had slipped into the house today like a breeze through sheer curtains-soft, obliging, eager to help with every little task.

When Elliot opened his livestream, she had toddled off and returned with a bowl

of strawberries, setting it beside him like an attentive page offering fruit to a young

king.fn6fd3 The source of th?s content is F?nd-Novel/fn6fd3

Later, as he yed games, she perched beside him, wide eyes reflecting the screen''s glow, pure worship shimmering in their depths.

And the moment she arrived, she''d handed him a single garden blossom-its stem crooked, its petals slightly bruised-yet to Elliot it felt grander than any medal.

ced side by side, Dahlia''s quiet devotion and Amelia''s spirited raids formed a contrast so sharp the boy''s preference seemed inevitable.

Watching him, Cecilia drifted into her own reverie. One day, Elliot, Jon, Luke, and Gabe will all grow up. What kinds of women will steal their hearts? The thought unfurled like a montage: four tuxedoed sons, four veiled brides, confetti swirling beneath cathedral arches.

A sudden chill prickled her arms. Four weddings... Lord, that''s a lot of ceremonies —and a lot of new personalities to juggle. Her pulse picked up, wild as an unseen drum.

And grandchildren. What if each couple hands me two babies? That''s eight little ones crying for snacks, storybooks, and piano lessons.