And that very morning, Charlotte had stood beside the kitchen counter, serene and reasonable, suggesting they increase the sedatives again.
“The seizures are unbearable,” she had said softly. “He’s suffering.”
But what Alexander saw now was not suffering.
It was life.
He stepped forward. The soft crunch of grass beneath his expensive shoes broke the spell.
Elena froze.
The play ended instantly, as if someone had flipped a switch. She lowered Leo carefully, too carefully, like someone setting down evidence. Color drained from her face. Fear replaced joy in a heartbeat.
Leo whimpered and clutched her sleeve, his fingers digging in. Elena dropped to her knees immediately, breath uneven, hands raised slightly as if bracing for punishment.
“Mr. Montgomery… I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t notice the time. He just wanted to play for a minute.”
Alexander didn’t respond.
He stared at his son.
Leo wasn’t laughing anymore. His gaze sharpened, scanning the air like an animal sensing danger. Then—something that cracked Alexander’s chest wide open—the boy moved.
With coordination.
With intent.