Fingers loosened. Tremors eased. Slowly, painfully, he released her.
Silence swallowed the room.
Then Nathaniel collapsed against her, sobbing into her uniform.
Rosa covered her mouth. Vanessa’s eyes narrowed in something close to alarm. Henry whispered, “He hasn’t let anyone near him like that since Elena died.”
Elias stood rooted.
For two years he had lived with a son who recoiled from touch, who shrank from affection. Now Nathaniel clung to this woman like she was the only safe place left in the world.
Maya wrapped her good arm around him, rocking gently. “You’re safe. I promise.”
Elias’s rage fractured, replaced by shock—and a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in years: hope.
When the sobs quieted, Maya smoothed Nathaniel’s hair. Then she looked up at Elias.
“He wasn’t attacking me, sir. He was attacking the pain. I was just in the way.”
Elias’s throat closed. Shame crashed over him. He had screamed, accused—without seeing what she had done.
Rosa stepped closer. “Mr. Harrington, she stopped him from hurting himself. We should be grateful.”
Elias cleared his throat. “Miss Torres.” He paused—he rarely apologized. “I misjudged. Badly.”