Chapter 80

The steering wheel felt cold beneath Camille's fingers as she drove away from the equestrian center.

She had no destination in mind.

Elise and Gabriel were busy with their own plans. Returning to the Hartwell mansion without Chloe seemed pointless—Marianne would only worry more.

Her thoughts swirled as she passed Meadowlight Park. Families picnicked on the grass. Couples strolled hand in hand. Young adults pushed elderly parents in wheelchairs.

Their laughter stung. A hollow ache spread through her chest.

After twenty more minutes of aimless driving, she abruptly pulled over.

Her phone felt heavy in her palm. Three rings later, a familiar voice answered. "Dr. Harrington speaking."

"How is my mother today?"

The nursing home courtyard smelled of lavender and antiseptic.

Audrey sat motionless on a bench, her once-vibrant eyes now vacant. The woman who'd twirled Camille around their garden now barely recognized her own daughter.

Even after all these years, the sight still stole Camille's breath.

A quiet voice interrupted her thoughts. "No change." Hugo Harrington adjusted his glasses. "She's stable, but..."

Camille understood. Any mention of the past could trigger another episode. These rare moments of calm were too fragile to risk.

When Audrey's gaze flickered toward her, Camille retreated behind a tree.

"I trust you'll take good care of her," she told Hugo and the nurses.

"Of course, Ms. Hartwell."

Through the lounge window, she watched Audrey trace patterns on her own palm. After leaving the new books and toiletries at reception, Camille forced herself to leave.

The park beckoned again on her drive back. Colorful kites danced against the blue sky. Before she could reconsider, she turned into the parking lot.

Warm sunlight. Children's laughter. The scent of cotton candy.

Everyone belonged to someone. Except her.

She hovered near a kite vendor when tiny fingers curled around hers.

"Ms. Hartwell?"

Camille looked down. "Iris?"

The girl nodded solemnly, not letting go.

Tristan Rutherford appeared moments later. His greeting died when he saw Camille. "Here alone?"

"Yes."

"No Chloe?"

Camille shook her head.

Iris tugged her hand. "Fly with me?"

"I shouldn't—"

"Join us," Tristan cut in. "We're short on kite experts."

When she hesitated, he added, "I'll just watch. Think of it as doing Iris a favor."

The girl's hopeful eyes decided it.

They chose a sapphire butterfly kite together.

Camille remembered kite-flying with Chloe, but this one was larger than expected. Iris struggled to hold the string.

Tristan stepped forward without being asked. Their fingers brushed during the handoff.

The kite soared.

Iris's delighted laughter filled the air.

For the first time that day, Camille didn't feel quite so alone.