The silence of River Oaks was heavy, broken only by the distant hum of traffic on Chimney Rock Road and the rustle of live oaks swaying in the damp Texas breeze

The grand mansion was deathly quiet when Ethan and Clara walked back inside through the service entrance. The heavy silence of the twenty-thousand-square-foot estate no longer felt like a monument to success; it felt like an empty shell that had nearly swallowed his family whole.

Ethan insisted that Clara sit at the kitchen island while he brewed a pot of hot tea, watching her hands wrap around the steaming ceramic mug to chase away the last remnants of the chill.

“You don't have to stay tonight, Clara,” Ethan said softly, leaning against the marble counter. “You can take my car, go home, and take all the time you need.”

Clara took a slow sip of the tea, her gaze drifting toward the hallway stairs. “If I leave, who checks the blue lamp in Sophie’s room?”

Ethan paused, a heavy lump forming in his throat. “I do.”

Clara looked up at him, a faint, knowing smile touching the corners of her lips. “You can try, Mr. Whitaker. But a blue lamp isn't just a light bulb. It’s a promise that the dark isn't coming back.”

She stood up, untied her gray apron, folded it neatly, and placed it on the counter. Then, without another word, she walked up the grand staircase. Ethan followed her at a distance, watching like a man stepping into unfamiliar territory for the very first time.

Upstairs, the door to the twins' bedroom was cracked open just an inch.

Clara slipped inside first. Ethan lingered in the hallway, peering through the gap.

Sophie was curled in a tight ball on the right side of the bed, clutching the frayed plush bunny close to her chest. Avery was sprawled out on the left, one arm hanging off the mattress.

Clara walked in with absolute silence, adjusted Avery’s blanket, tucked the stray arm back under the covers, and reached over to turn on the small blue nightlight on the bedside table.

As she turned to leave, a sleepy voice mumbled from the pillows.

“Clara?”

“I’m right here, Sophie,” Clara whispered, standing beside the bed.

“Is Daddy home?”

Clara glanced toward the doorway, catching Ethan’s eyes in the dim light. She stepped aside, opening the space between them.

“He’s right here, too,” Clara said softly.

Ethan’s breath hitched. He pushed the door open all the way, walked across the plush carpet, and knelt beside the bed. For the first time in two years, he didn't just stand in the doorway like a visitor checking off a nightly chore. He reached out, brushed a stray curl from Sophie’s forehead, and gently took Avery’s small hand in his.

“I’m here, sweeties,” Ethan whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. “Daddy’s not going anywhere.”