The next morning, she went to the children’s shelter she had quietly arranged for him. She was ready—to apologize, to beg, to hold him again.
But Aiden was gone.
“He overheard he was being moved,” the staff explained. “He ran. Probably scared.”
Vivienne bolted into the streets. No chauffeur. No umbrella. No pretense. Just a mother searching for her son.
“Aiden! Evan! Please—come back!”
Hours passed.
Finally, under an overpass near the river, she found him—kneeling beside a pile of blankets. Gus had died the night before. The boy had nowhere left to go.
Aiden clutched his pendant, crying silently.
“He said my mom would come,” he whispered. “But she never did.”
Vivienne fell to her knees.
“She’s here,” she choked. “Aiden… I’m your mother. I never stopped looking for you.”
He stared at her, confused… hurt.
“You pushed me,” he said quietly.
“I did,” she wept. “I didn’t know it was you. I’m so sorry. I will spend the rest of my life making it right. Please… please forgive me.”
After what felt like forever, Aiden reached out and touched her cheek.
“You came back,” he murmured.
Vivienne broke into sobs as she pulled him into her arms. For the first time in five years, her world began to heal.