Wealth or not, even the most sessful mother ends up babysitting, Cecilia

reminded herself. Elena, after all, spent half her days wrangling two toddlers who weren''t even her own.

Four daughters-inw, eight grandkids-my house will be louder than a circus ring.

And heaven forbid they start squabbling over shares of the familypany... The mere prospect turned the air around her slightly metallic.

She started feeling dizzy, the world rocking as if it couldn''t decide which reality tond on.

Beside her, Elliot was lost in a parallel fantasy of his own: When I''m big, I''ll marry a girl just like Dahlia-sweet, polite, helpful. Then everyone in our house willugh more than they argue. The vision painted a smile across his small face.fnc12c For more chapters visit Find~Novel/fnc12c

So the woman and the boy stood together on the dim porch-one tall, one small -both staring after a taillight long gone, both dreaming of futures woven from hope, fear, and the soft glow of an April evening.

Nathaniel''s voice drifted from behind them, warm yet teasing. "What are the two of you doing posted at the doorway? Isn''t it freezing out here?"

The mellow baritone snapped mother and son from their spell. Cecilia startled, pressing a hand to her chest, then managed a shakyugh.

"We''re fine," she answered, though a faint tremor still clung to her words.

Elliot pouted, eyes clouding. "My heart feels colder than the air. Mommy, could you invite Dahlia over again to y soon?" The plea slipped out before he could tame the longing in his voice.

Just then, Jonathan stepped from the study, rubbing the blue light of hours spent coding from his eyes.

"y what?" he asked, one brow rising behind thin wire-rim sses.

He had spent the afternoon wrestling algorithms, catching only fragments of

"Dahlia" and "ying" through the half-open door.

Seeing his brother, Elliot''s stomach knotted with apetition he could not name.

"N-nothing," he stammered, gaze skittering away.

Elliot knew his sketches and songs could never outshine Jonathan''s trophies. Thest thing he wanted was his gifted brother discovering Dahlia.

Jonathan read the lie at once yet chose mercy, letting the silence settle.

To him, Elliot was a simple-minded kid. He wouldn''t have any secrets.

Cecilia, blind to the undercurrent, simply found both boys impossibly adorable and felt her heart swell with quiet pride.

When the boys finally retreated to their rooms, Cecilia tugged Nathaniel onto the couch. "Nathaniel, a thought just hit me," she whispered.

"What thought?" he asked, brow creasing.

"Someday our four children will be grown. How will we divide the estate? And when they marry, how do we keep everything fair?"

The image of siblings turning into rivals—like Nathaniel and Nichs-still haunted her.

"They''re still little sprouts," he chuckled. "You''re nning decades ahead."

"Time flies faster than you think.

Elliot already likes Dahlia. What ifet

Jonathan falls for her, too? A girl that sweet could capture many hearts:  s

He waved the notion away. "The odds of both boys loving the same person are tiny. Rx."

She tried, yet the crease between her brows lingered. Nathaniel drew her close, smoothing her hair. "All right, stop worrying dust live our lives as of now." . s

"All right," she murmured, letting the beat of his heart quiet the storm in her mind.

One dayter, Cecilia walked into the detention infirmary where Scorpius awaited trial.

He had shaved his head. The gesture gave his weathered face a monk-like

austerity, and yet a fragile peace flickered in his eyes.

"Ms. Cecilia, what brings you here?" he asked, voice rough but steady.

"I came to see how you''re holding up," Cecilia said, her voice low yet steady as

she stepped to the other side of the bars.

Scorpius let out a hoarse chuckle

that rattled in his chest. "I''m just an

old fool Nothing here worth your

time. You''d better leave ces like this stain anyone who visits too often."  s

Cecilia didn''t move. A faint rustle of her coat answered the silence as she nted her feet, refusing the easy exit he offered.

"Scorpius, don''t burden yourself," she said, the words soft but unwavering. "Jon and I have already forgiven you."

She refused to let him crumble the way her mother once had-forever stooped beneath guilt that never loosened its grip.

The old man froze, eyes widening as though the cell''s dim light had suddenly red. For a long moment, he simply stared, unable to summon breath.

"Ms. Cecilia... thank you," he whispered, tears swelling until they blurred the lines of his scarred face.