Chapter 115

Chapter 115
The car finally pulled up to the school entrance. Mila unbuckled with the slow movements of a child who did not want to leave the car, and Jace leaned over to help her straighten her bag.

“Have a good day, sweetheart,” he said gently, brushing a curl from her forehead.

She nodded and gave him a small kiss on the cheek, but even that felt softer, sadder and hollow somehow.

Jace’s chest tightened as he watched her walk toward the school building with tiny steps, her backpack too big for her shoulders.

He was about to tell Ben to drive off when he heard someone call his name.

“Mr. Crane?”

Jace turned. Mila’s teacher Miss Adeline Hart, was walking toward him with a polite smile, masking something more serious. She was a calm woman in her forties, always gentle and always patient. But today, her eyes held worry.

“Can we talk for a moment?” she asked.

Jace’s stomach dropped.

This was not good.
Teachers do not ask for private talks to deliver good news.

“Yes, of course,” he said, forcing a calm tone. “Is something wrong?”

Miss Hart gestured toward the building. “Let’s step inside.”

Jace followed her down the hallway, the sound of kids laughing in nearby classrooms, slicing through him. Mason should have been here too– running, playing, and being loud, being five. The thought alone made his throat burn.

Miss Hart opened the door to her small office and motioned for him to sit. Jace did, hands pressed together tightly in his lap as she took her seat across from him.

“I will be direct, Mr. Crane,” she began, folding her hands. “I am concerned about Mila.”

Jace stiffened. “Concerned… how?”

Miss Hart exhaled. “Her behaviour has changed, drastically. She used to be bubbly, bright, and always enthusiastic during lessons. She was one of the most engaged children in class.”

Jace felt pressure building behind his eyes.

Used..to...be.

“But now,” Miss Hart continued gently, “she is distracted and distant… she sits quietly and stares at her desk for long stretches. She does not answer questions. She does not participate. She is not interacting with her friends.”

Jace swallowed hard, keeping his eyes down so she would not see the crack forming there.

“I see…” he whispered.

“And academically,” Miss Hart added, “she is falling behind. Her progress has slowed. She seems… to be preoccupied. As though something heavy is on her mind.”

Something heavy.

Jace felt the words like they were aimed straight at his chest.

Of course, Mila was different.
Her brother was gone.
Her parents were no longer living together.
The house was tense.
And Jace was breaking in ways he did not want her to see, but maybe she saw it anyway.

He wanted to scream.
He wanted to cry right there in that tiny office chair.
He wanted to fall apart and apologize for not protecting her from any of this.

But he could not
Not here.
Not now.
Not in front of her teacher.

So instead, he forced his voice steady.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. “I will… talk to her. I will make sure things get better.”

Miss Hart nodded, relief smoothing some of the worry lines on her face. “I appreciate that, Mr. Crane. And please know that Mila is a wonderful child. She just seems… lost. Like she is carrying something she can’t express.”

Jace felt something inside him split cleanly in two.

He stood, ready to escape before the cracks in his chest burst open. “Thank you again. I will handle it.”

She stood too. “Of course.”

But as he reached the door, her voice stopped him again.

“Mr. Crane… I hope you don’t mind me asking but... how is Mason?”

The world froze.

Jace did not turn around.
He could not.

He gripped the doorknob so tightly his knuckles blanched white.

Miss Hart continued gently, unaware she was crushing him with every word.

“We have all been worried. The staff… the students… Mila especially. Has there been any news? Have the authorities… found him?”

Jace’s jaw clenched, his throat working around a lump he could not swallow.

“We are doing everything we can,” he said quietly, voice trembling despite every effort not to let it. “We are trying our best.”

“I am so sorry you are going through this,” Miss Hart said softly. “And what about Elias? Is he okay?”

That did it.

That was the blow that cleaved straight through his ribs.

Elias...Mason....His broken house....His broken heart....His daughter slipping through his fingers....And he was supposed to be holding everything together.

Jace forced the words out, each one scraping painfully against his throat.

“We are all… trying. Thank you for your concern.”

It was all he could manage.

Miss Hart nodded, sympathy swimming openly in her eyes but Jace did not let himself look directly at her. He could not risk seeing kindness right now. Kindness would shatter him.

He pushed out through the door as quickly as he could without seeming rude, his breaths coming too shallow and fast. He kept his gaze down as he walked through the hallway, past the laughing children, past colorful drawings taped to the walls— everything his life should still look like.

But did not.

By the time he stepped outside into the air, his chest felt tight enough to split open.

Ben hurried to open the car door, but Jace barely registered him. He slid into the seat, exhaling shakily as the door shut behind him.

And then the silence swallowed him whole.

~

Jace sat at his desk, staring blankly at the spreadsheet glowing on the monitor, but none of the numbers made sense. They floated, blurred and rearranged themselves into patterns that kept dissolving the moment he tried to focus. He blinked hard and rubbed his face with both hands. It did not help. Nothing did.

The teacher’s words just would not stop ringing in his head.

She’s quiet... distant... not concentrating... she used to be bubbly... what about Elias?

He exhaled shakily and dropped his forehead onto his clasped hands. Mila. Sweet, bright, endlessly curious Mila. His baby. She was never supposed to carry this weight. She was not supposed to be silently crumbling while he was too consumed and too overwhelmed, too broken to notice just how bad it had gotten.

He swallowed hard, his throat tight. He should have seen it sooner. He should have held her more, talked to her more, read to her even on the nights when exhaustion burned through his bones. He had thought he had been doing enough… but clearly he had not.

The guilt pressed down on him like a physical weight.

He leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. For the first time all day, he reached for his phone.

His thumb hovered over Elias’s contact.

He should not call. Elias was probably drowning in work, stress. They had barely spoken since… everything.

Jace needed him...so badly.

Before he could second-guess himself, he tapped the call button.

The phone rang once.
Twice.
Three times.

Then went straight to voicemail.

Jace closed his eyes, feeling a mix of disappointment and shame wash through him. Why had he expected anything different? Elias was dealing with enough. Maybe he had turned his phone off. Maybe he did not want to talk.

He stared at the black phone screen, feeling absurdly small.

The alarm on his phone buzzed a minute later, time to pick up Mila.

He sighed, stood, and grabbed his keys. Escaping the office felt like a relief.

~

Mila was waiting at the school gate, backpack hanging off one shoulder, arms wrapped around herself. Not the way she usually stood. Not bouncing on her toes. Not smiling when she saw him.

She just looked… tired.

Jace’s chest constricted.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured softly as he crouched in front of her. “Ready to go home?”

She nodded. No smile.

He gently took her hand and guided her to the car.

The ride home was quiet. Mila just gazed out the window, tracing lines in the fogged glass with her finger. Jace kept glancing at her through the rearview mirror, wishing she would say something but she did not.

At home, Mo had prepared dinner. Jace thanked her quietly and tried to get Mila to eat, but she only pushed her food around the plate.

He forced himself not to panic. Kids had off-days, right?

After dinner, he helped her change into pajamas, brushed her hair, kissed her forehead, and tucked her in with her favourite stuffed seal.

He sat beside her until her breathing became slow and even.

But even then, he did not move.

He was still sitting there when the door creaked open softly. Morgan stepped inside.

His expression changed the moment he saw Jace’s face, he could read the exhaustion, the guilt, the barely contained grief trembling under the surface.

He hesitated in the doorway.
Things had been… off between them. Ever since the kiss. Ever since, Jace began avoiding eye contact with him. Ever since Morgan began keeping his distance, unsure of his place now.

For a second, he looked like he might walk away.

But he did not.

He stepped further inside. “You okay?”

Jace let out a dry, humourless breath. “Does it look like I am okay?”

Morgan’s jaw tightened. “No. It doesn’t.”

Jace looked down at Mila’s sleeping form. “Her teacher said she is falling behind. That she is not talking like she used to. Not even smiling. She has… changed. And I did not even see how bad it was.” His voice cracked at the end, and he quickly turned his head away.

Morgan stepped closer and cautious. “Jace…”

“I am trying,” Jace whispered. “I am trying so hard, but everything is falling apart. My kids....My marriage.....My sanity.” His voice lowered. “All because of a mistake I made years ago.”

Morgan sat gently on the other side of the bed. “Jace, you can’t blame yourself for—”

“I can.” Jace’s whisper was sharp. “I tortured Justin. I let Lorenzo help me do it. And now the past is catching up, dragging all of us down with it.”

Morgan exhaled slowly. He did not argue neither did he lecture. He just sat there, steady and quiet.

After a moment he spoke. “Come out with me.”

Jace blinked. “What?”

“You need to breathe,” Morgan said softly. “Just… come out. Clear your head for a night before it breaks you.”

Jace hesitated. Leaving Mila felt wrong. Leaving the house felt unsafe. Leaving the weight on his chest felt impossible.

But Morgan was right.

He could not fall apart here. Not in front of Mila. Not where she could wake up and see him losing control.

He finally nodded.

\~~~

Outside, he instructed the security team to tighten surveillance. “Keep your eyes on the house. On Mila. Don’t take chances.”

They nodded firmly.

Jace followed Morgan to the car.

They drove to a quiet bar near the edge of the city— nothing fancy just a dimly lit room, calm music humming through the room. Morgan ordered for both of them, something strong but smooth, and slid the glass toward Jace.

Jace drank.

He did not realize how much tension he had been carrying until the alcohol loosened it, slowly unspooling the knots inside him.

Morgan listened while Jace talked about everything for the first time in weeks.

About the guilt....The fear......The nights he cried himself hoarse......The crushing weight of being the one who broke the chain that held their whole family together.

“I feel like I am drowning,” Jace whispered, staring into his glass. “Every day, it gets harder to breathe.”

Morgan’s voice was soft. “You are doing your best.”

“It is not enough.”

“It is,” Morgan insisted gently. “You are holding your family together even when you are hurting. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

The words hit deeper than Jace expected. Maybe because no one had told him he was doing well in a very long time.

He drank more.
Talked more.
Eventually he laughed, even if the sound was tired and sad.

By the time they stood to leave, the world felt softer around the edges.

The drive home was quiet, cool night air slipping through the cracked window. When they reached the house, Jace stumbled a little on the steps, laughing at himself under his breath.

Morgan caught his arm. “Careful.”

Jace looked at him and something warm and grateful swelled in his chest. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For dragging me out. For listening. For… everything.”

Morgan’s expression softened. “Anytime.”

There was a moment of silence. It was thick, electric and heavy with the alcohol thrumming in Jace’s veins.

Jace leaned in but Morgan did not pull away.

Their lips met.

It was not gentle.It was not controlled.It was desperate, messy, a release of every emotion Jace had been swallowing for weeks.

Before Jace knew it, Morgan’s hands were on his waist, guiding him backward, pulling him close, both of them stumbling toward Jace’s room.

And then—​