Chapter 28
605words
As we turned onto the country road that would lead us to Lily, I reached for Olivia's hand. She intertwined her fingers with mine without hesitation, a simple gesture that spoke volumes about how far we had come in just a few days.
"Whatever happens," I said softly, "I'm grateful for this time with you. For the chance to tell you the truth. To show you that I never stopped loving you."
Olivia squeezed my hand. "I'm grateful too," she said. "For the truth. For the chance to start again."
It wasn't a declaration of love, not quite. But it was a beginning. And after everything we had been through, a beginning was more than enough.
Olivia's POV
The safe house was a modest farmhouse set back from the road, surrounded by tall pines that provided natural screening from prying eyes. As Nathan parked the car, I felt my heart racing with anticipation and nervousness. After everything that had happened—the accident, the surgery, the revelations about Victor—seeing Lily felt like a lifeline, a connection to the person I was before my world shattered.
"Are you sure you're up for this?" Nathan asked, his eyes searching my face with concern.
I nodded, my hand instinctively moving to my abdomen where the surgical incision was still healing. "I need to see her, Nathan. I need to know she's okay."
He reached over, covering my hand with his. The simple gesture of support meant more than I could express. Eight months ago, I would have taken such moments for granted. Now, each touch, each look of understanding felt like a precious gift.
A woman in her forties met us at the door—Dr. Melissa Chen, according to the identification she showed us. "Dr. Carter, Mr. Carter," she greeted us. "Lily's been asking for you since she arrived."
"How is she?" I asked, the doctor in me needing clinical details, the woman who had grown to care for this child needing reassurance.
"Physically, she's fine. Emotionally..." Dr. Chen hesitated. "She's been through a traumatic experience. She's withdrawn, speaks very little except to ask for you."
"Can I see her now?"
Dr. Chen nodded. "She's in the sunroom. I should warn you—she might be different from the child you remember. Trauma affects children in unpredictable ways."
I steeled myself as we followed Dr. Chen through the house. Whatever state Lily was in, I would be there for her. I would not fail her as so many adults in her life had.
The sunroom was bright and cheerful, filled with plants and comfortable furniture. At first, I didn't see Lily. Then I noticed a small figure curled up in a window seat, clutching a familiar stuffed rabbit.
"Lily?" I called softly.
She turned, and the moment her eyes found mine, her whole face transformed. "Dr. Olivia!" she cried, scrambling off the seat and running toward me.
I knelt down, ignoring the pain in my abdomen, and opened my arms. She flew into them, her small body trembling as she clung to me. "You came," she whispered. "You really came."
"Of course I did," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I promised I'd keep you safe, remember?"
She nodded against my shoulder, then pulled back slightly to look at me. Her eyes, too old for her young face, studied me intently. "You got hurt," she said, noticing my careful movements.
