Chapter 3
My driver pulled up to the house ten minutes later.
Mia and Tommy had fallen asleep in the backseat, their bellies full for the first time in weeks. Lucas sat beside me, wide awake, his eyes scanning every car that passed, every shadow on the street. Ella slept in her car seat, completely at peace.
"You don't have to be so afraid," I said. "We're safe now."
Lucas shook his head. "You don't know what they're capable of. They killed our parents in cold blood. They won't stop just because we're in a nice house."
I wanted to argue. To tell him that my security system was state-of-the-art, that the gates were twelve feet high, that I had cameras everywhere. But I saw the look in his eyes—the haunted, terrified look of a child who'd seen too much—and I stayed silent.
The car pulled through the massive iron gates and up the long driveway. My house loomed ahead, big and dark and empty. I'd bought it after the accident, thinking that if I surrounded myself with luxury, I might forget how broken I was.
It never worked.
But now, as I looked at it through Lucas's eyes, I saw something different. Not a prison. A fortress. A place where these children could finally be safe.
The driver opened the doors. I got out—slowly, carefully, still getting used to the feeling of standing—and turned to help the children. Lucas was already out, lifting Ella from her car seat with practiced ease.
"Can you carry Mia?" he asked me. "She's a heavy sleeper."
I nodded. I reached into the backseat and carefully lifted the small girl into my arms. She was light—too light, malnourished and small for her age—but she felt warm and real against my chest. Her head lolled onto my shoulder, and she sighed in her sleep.
Something inside me shifted. A wall I'd built around my heart twenty years ago cracked just a little.
Lucas carried Tommy, and together we walked up to the front door.
The house was quiet when we entered. Too quiet. It had been just me and the housekeeper for years, and she'd gone home for the night.
"Make yourselves at home," I said, carrying Mia toward the guest rooms. "There are plenty of bedrooms. Each of you can have your own."
I laid Mia down in the first guest room, pulling the covers up around her. She stirred slightly but didn't wake. Lucas put Tommy in the next room, then stood in the doorway, watching his little brother sleep.
"He hasn't slept through the night in months," Lucas said quietly. "He always has nightmares about... about what happened."
I placed a hand on his shoulder. "He's safe now. You all are."
Lucas turned to look at me. His eyes were red-rimmed and exhausted. "Why are you doing this? We're strangers. You don't even know us."
I thought about my wife. About how she'd always wanted children, how we'd tried for years and never could. About how I'd pushed everyone away after she died, how I'd become a bitter old man sitting in a wheelchair, waiting to die.
"Because Ella gave me something I thought I'd lost forever," I said. "Because no child should ever have to go through what you've been through. And because... because I've been alone for a very long time."
Lucas nodded slowly, like he understood.
"Come on," I said. "Let's get you and Ella settled too."
I showed him the master bedroom—my bedroom. It was the biggest room in the house, with a king-sized bed and an attached bathroom.
"This is yours," I said.
Lucas's eyes went wide. "I can't take your room. That's not right."
"I'll sleep in one of the guest rooms," I said. "You and Ella need the space. And the bathroom will be easier for her."
Lucas hesitated, then nodded. He carefully laid Ella down on the massive bed. She looked tiny against the pillows, like a little doll.
"Thank you," Lucas said again. It seemed to be the only thing he knew how to say.
"Get some sleep," I told him. "We'll talk more in the morning."
I turned to leave, but Lucas's voice stopped me.
"Mr. Arthur?"
I turned back. "Just Arthur is fine."
"Arthur," he said. "The bad men... they have resources. They have money. They have people everywhere. If they find us, they won't just hurt us. They'll hurt you too."
I looked at this brave, broken child, and I felt something I hadn't felt in twenty years.
Purpose.
"Let them try," I said.
I walked out of the room and closed the door softly behind me. Standing in the hallway, I could hear the quiet breathing of four sleeping children. For the first time in years, my big empty house didn't feel like a tomb.
It felt like a home.
I walked to the window and looked out at the gates. At the security cameras. At the darkness beyond.
Somewhere out there, the men who'd destroyed these children's lives were still looking for them. Still hunting a baby for her miraculous gift.
I clenched my fists at my sides. My legs—my newly healed legs—felt strong and steady beneath me.
May you like
They wanted a fight?
I'd give them one.
