Charlotte tried to manipulate, accuse, and lie. But Elena, with her back against the basement door, shouted the truth: the key was in her dress, the child was downstairs. Alexander took the key, opened the door, and went down without a second thought.
He found Leo in a corner, curled up in a knot, trembling. He knelt down, shining the phone’s flashlight on him, and spoke in a voice that barely came out.
—Champ… that’s it. Dad came for you. It’s over.
Leo raised his head. His eyes searched, found… and then he said, his throat dry:
—Dad…
Alexander hugged him. This time Leo didn’t stiffen. He clung to his father’s neck with a strength that was pure survival instinct, and Alexander understood, in that embrace, all the damage his absence had allowed.
He went upstairs with the child in his arms. In the living room, Charlotte continued playing her part in front of her friends. But when she saw the little boy in his dirty pajamas, his hair tangled, his face hidden in his father’s neck, the lie shattered like an overflowing glass.
“Everyone to the room,” Alexander ordered, with a calmness that was frightening.
Charlotte tried to stop him. Elena stepped in, trembling but resolute.