“Caleb,” Fernando said slowly, measuring each word. “You understand that’s a serious thing to say.”
Caleb nodded fast, almost frantic. “I know. That’s why I’m saying it.”
The landscaper shouted again, irritated. “Caleb! Stop bothering the man!”
Caleb’s shoulders hunched, but he didn’t back down.
“Please,” he said to Fernando, voice cracking. “Just look at her. Like… really look.”
Fernando stared at him a moment longer than either of them expected.
Then, without replying, he turned and walked through the gates.
He told himself it was ridiculous.
He told himself it was grief poisoning his judgment.
He told himself a kid didn’t understand medical realities.
But as he crossed the driveway, one thought kept tapping at the inside of his skull like a nail trying to get out.
What if I’ve been looking at my own child for months… and not seeing her at all?
Inside, Harrington Manor was quiet in the way only rich houses were quiet, muffled by money and thick carpet and staff trained to move like ghosts.