Slowly, Ethan copied her. He placed his palm on the glass. Somewhere, a door closed. His body tensed…
But he didn’t cry.
Because now he knew what it was.
And more importantly—he knew he wasn’t broken.
That’s when the nanny rushed in.
She froze at the sight of Lucy sitting beside Ethan, like an intruder in the heart of the house.
“What are you doing here?!” she gasped.
A minute later, Alexander appeared.
His face was tight, ready for anger—until he stopped cold.
Ethan wasn’t crying.
He sat calmly, hand on the glass, looking at Lucy like she’d shown him a secret of the universe.
“What’s going on?” Alexander demanded.
Lucy was scared—but she didn’t run. She pointed to the floor, the window, the chest, using simple words.
“He… feels,” she said softly. “When there’s noise… it’s like it’s inside him. It hurts. It scares him.”
The room fell into a real silence—not Ethan’s silence, but the silence of adults realizing they were wrong.
Alexander stepped closer to the window. Pressed his palm to the glass.
At that moment, an engine roared in the courtyard.
The glass vibrated—clearly.
Alexander felt it.
His throat tightened.