Chapter 12
Vivian had never seen Charles look at her with such venom. The color drained from her face, and without another word, she scurried back to her room like a scolded child.
Upstairs, in Elizabeth's bedroom.
She settled Jack on the sofa, using a damp cloth to gently wipe away the tear tracks and grime from his small face.
Jack sat perfectly still, letting her work. His wide eyes remained red-rimmed, but they tracked her every movement with an almost desperate focus.
"Hungry?" Elizabeth softened her voice.
Jack blinked. He didn't nod or shake his head—just reached out one small hand and latched onto the fabric of her sleeve again.
Elizabeth looked at the child and felt something tighten in her chest.
She had the staff prepare some light, easily digestible food and bring it up.
When the meal arrived, Jack ate slowly but deliberately, clearly starving despite his careful restraint.
He remained quiet, barely making a sound. Every few bites, he'd glance up to check if Elizabeth was still there, as if terrified she might vanish.
Watching his docile yet haunted demeanor, Elizabeth couldn't help but think of the child she'd never gotten to hold. If her baby had survived, would they have clung to her sleeve like this? Would they have looked at her with those same trusting eyes?
Something maternal stirred deep in her soul. Elizabeth gazed at Jack with genuine tenderness, reaching out to brush her fingers through his soft hair.
Jack froze mid-bite, lifting his head to meet her gaze. Those clear, wide eyes seemed to lose a fraction of their fear, replaced by a tentative, confused dependence.
Elizabeth knew keeping Jack meant complications. Jacob's warning still echoed in her mind, and someone like Vivian wouldn't stay quiet for long.
But right now, looking at this child who'd stumbled into her life through sheer accident, she couldn't bring herself to push him away.
Besides, Jack would eventually become her son anyway. Once she married Jacob, the boy would be hers to protect.
Thinking about that uncertain married life ahead, having this small child to lean on—and to lean on her—Elizabeth felt an unexpected flicker of something almost like hope.
Her eyes hardened as reality set back in. During Jack's time at the Smith estate, she'd need to be even more vigilant.
Not just against outside threats, but against those within these walls.
She pulled out her phone and sent an encrypted message to Lynx at Nightfall: [Identify whoever orchestrated yesterday's warehouse kidnapping. Find the security breach in the Smith Family's system. Also, monitor internal movements at the Windsor estate—especially Vivian.]
The road to revenge stretched long ahead. But right now, protecting this child who'd accidentally wandered into her life had become an unplanned yet essential mission.
Elizabeth suddenly realized that with Jack here, she couldn't slip away for target practice like usual.
For once, she had something resembling downtime. She sat with Jack, helping him play with a set of brightly colored wooden blocks.
Jack remained quiet as always, mostly just watching Elizabeth build. Occasionally, when she handed him a piece, he'd carefully take it and place it where she indicated. Then he'd lift those clear eyes to her face, waiting—almost desperately—for her approval.
Elizabeth would give a small nod, never stinting on praise. His gaze would drop back to the colorful blocks, and the corners of his mouth would twitch upward despite himself, fighting a smile he didn't quite know how to make yet.
This brief, peaceful interlude almost let Elizabeth forget the bloodshed and bone-deep hatred waiting outside these walls.
But peace never lasted long in her world.
When Will announced Henry's arrival, ice-cold irritation flashed through Elizabeth's eyes. Still, she didn't refuse the visit.
She was curious to see what the man looked like now, minus one finger.
The moment Vivian heard Henry had arrived, she flew out of her room, face lit with delight.
Henry walked into the living room with his right pinky finger wrapped in thick gauze, dark crimson seeping through the bandages.
Vivian zeroed in on the injury immediately. She let out an exaggerated gasp, tears springing to her eyes with theatrical speed.
"Henry! Your hand—what happened to your hand?!" She rushed forward, wanting to touch but not daring to. Her sobs came thick and fast. "Who did this to you? How could they be so cruel! It must hurt so much."
Henry's face was pale, with that sickly fragility that came from real suffering. The loss of his finger had clearly taken its toll.
He instinctively tried to push away the overly clingy Vivian with his injured hand. Pain lanced through him the moment he moved, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Deep in his eyes lingered traces of terror that hadn't quite faded.
That night—being held down, forced to watch the blade glinting in the low light before it fell—replayed in his head on an endless, horrifying loop.
"It's nothing, Vivian. Just a scratch." He forced the words out, but his gaze jumped desperately past her, landing on Elizabeth.
She sat on the carpet in the distance, calmly playing blocks with some unknown little boy. She hadn't even glanced his way when he entered. Hadn't looked at his injury. Hadn't reacted at all.
A bitter, choking frustration rose in Henry's chest.
He'd suffered this nightmare, and she couldn't even be bothered to care?
Elizabeth placed the final block atop the little castle. Only then did she look up, her gaze drifting lazily over Henry's bandaged hand. She arranged her features into an expression of perfectly performed surprise. "Henry. Did you lose a finger?"
Deep in Elizabeth's eyes, a flicker of satisfaction came and went too quickly to catch.
Shame she hadn't been there to watch it happen in person.
Still, imagining his face in that moment was satisfying enough for now.
"Elizabeth." Henry pushed past the still-sniffling Vivian, forcing what he probably thought was a soulful smile onto his face. He stepped closer. "I came to see you."
The smile held three parts devotion, three parts suffering, three parts restraint, with one part left over for things better left unsaid.
Elizabeth didn't respond. She simply picked up a nearby cloth and carefully wiped a bit of fruit puree from Jack's mouth.
Jack sat perfectly still under her attention, glancing briefly at the strange visitor before returning his focus to the blocks.
Henry's forced smile faltered at being ignored, but remembering why he'd come, he pushed forward with his performance.
He drew a deep breath, pressing his good hand to his chest like some tragic hero. His voice came out heavy with manufactured pain. "Elizabeth, I know there might be some misunderstandings between us. I know you're about to marry Mr. Smith, and I'm not good enough for you."
He paused, stealing a glance at Elizabeth's reaction. She remained expressionless. His jaw tightened in frustration, but he doubled down.
"But Elizabeth, please believe me. No matter who you marry, no matter what you become, you'll always be the one I love most. For the rest of my life, that will never change! I'll watch over you from afar. I'll love you forever!"