Ethan shook his head quickly, almost instinctively.
“She doesn’t like people staying,” he murmured, still avoiding eye contact.
Daniel nodded, piecing together the growing, darker picture.
The boy reached for the door handle, then paused, glancing back with uncertainty—almost pleading.
“Mr. Daniel… you’re not going to tell, are you?” he asked, his voice fragile, filled with fear… and trust.
That question froze Daniel. It wasn’t just fear speaking—it was belief. And trust demanded something in return.
He swallowed, choosing his words carefully.
“I… I’ll make sure you’re safe,” he said—truthful, but incomplete.
Ethan studied him for a moment, then nodded, accepting the answer without fully understanding it.
He stepped out of the car, moving carefully, each step measured, almost practiced.
Daniel watched as the boy approached the front doors, which opened before he even reached them—as if someone had been waiting.
Olivia stood there, elegant as ever, posture perfect, a gentle smile on her face—the picture of warmth and grace.
From a distance, nothing about her seemed wrong.
She leaned down, placing a soft hand on Ethan’s shoulder, guiding him inside with a gesture that looked almost affectionate.