Harrison remained silent for a long, conflicted moment. The engine hummed softly beneath the tension. Finally, with a voice weighted by exhaustion rather than belief, he spoke.
“Very well,” Harrison said quietly. “You may have ten minutes, but understand that I do not entertain illusions.”
In the Arden garden, a housekeeper brought a basin of lukewarm water, her expression uncertain yet obedient. Calvin removed several dried leaves and a small root from a worn canvas pouch, rubbing them carefully between his palms before placing them gently into the water. A faint herbal fragrance drifted through the crisp morning air.
Noelle watched every movement with intense fascination rarely seen in recent months.
Calvin knelt before her with quiet respect.
“Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable,” he said softly.
Noelle nodded solemnly.
Calvin lifted her small feet into his hands, washing them slowly, applying measured, deliberate pressure along precise points. His movements carried an unexpected confidence that unsettled Harrison more than theatrics ever could. Harrison stood nearby, arms crossed tightly, waiting for disappointment, distraction, or deception.