Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

"I know, I know, sweetheart. Of course I believe you. I've always believed you," Mila murmured, her voice gentle and unwavering. "But what's done is done, and now another child has been hurt. I don't believe for a second that you'd ever do such a thing, Adrian. I just want to understand what happened, so we can figure out how to make things right. Can you help me think it through? Can you help me, darling?"

The boy in her arms gradually stopped struggling. His fists, which had been pounding in frustration, grew still. At last, Adrian's small, trembling voice broke the silence. "I didn't push him."

"I know you didn't," Mila replied softly.

The room was dim, the gentle glow of a nightlight casting long shadows across the walls. Mila held Adrian close, feeling the tension and anger slowly ebb from his body, though now he lay quiet and sullen. She waited, patient and silent, hoping he would find the words she knew he needed to say.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly.

Then, all at once, Adrian clutched at her pajama sleeve, holding on with desperate strength. After so long without a sound, he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper but thunderous in her ears. "He fell. I tried to catch him—I really tried- but I couldn't."

His confession came in broken, stammering bursts, his voice shaking with guilt and confusion. "Mom, I wanted to hold on to him... Why didn't he grab my hand? He just kept walking that way. I said we should go home... and then he just fell..... I couldn't catch him..."

By the end, his words were a tangled sob.

To Mila, his jumbled sentences hit harder than any accusation. Her mind reeled, her whole body prickling with cold dread.

What did he mean?

There was no time to think it through. She saw the panic rising in Adrian's eyes, saw the way he was unraveling, and cupped his tear-streaked cheeks in her hands, looking straight into his gaze. "It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe now. Let's think about something else, okay? You don't have to remember it right now."

Gradually, Adrian calmed, his breathing evening out until at last he drifted into a restless sleep, his head pillowed on her lap. Mila pulled the blanket over him, tucking him in with gentle care, then leaned back against the headboard, covering her eyes with the back of her hand. A long, silent sigh escaped her.

had it

was so fragmented, so confused—no wonder, after such a shock. Mila did her best to piece it together, but she could hardly believe what she'd heard. Could it really have happened like that? Did Julian jump? Did he slip? There

adult might not recover from witnessing something like

pressed harder over

if this was the truth,

say? When she'd left the hospital, Leonard had confirmed there were no cameras on the upper floor-only one on the stairs, which showed the two boys running

Then Julian had fallen.

what really happened, and now one was traumatized and confused, his words easily dismissed, while the other was lying unconscious. There was simply no way to explainit clearly to

that wasn't even the worst

to it, if it truly was intentional- then things

for these children with all her heart, watched over them day and night; how had it come to this in just a year? The

parenting? And Lysander-did either of them see these children as anything more than tools to be used, as long as they had

cruel must a person be,

She'd always thought Lysander

limits.

his mother,

Fontaine, took his family

so seriously. Maybe it

treated so ruthlessly.

blood. Surely that meant something. Yet

be? Even wild beasts protect their