The ER doors burst open with a gust of rain and wind. I’m holding Leo’s hand so tight his fingers must ache, but I can’t let go. Not now. Not when we’re finally here.\n\nSeven years. That’s how long I’ve run. Changed names, burned bridges, slept with a knife under every mattress. For him. For my son. And now we’re walking into Saint Maris General—the place where it all began, where he works.\n\nThen I see him.\n\nElias.\n\nSame dark scrubs, same tired eyes that once looked at me like I was the only light in the room. He’s talking to a nurse, laughing briefly before turning—and freezing. Our eyes meet. Something flickers in his expression. Not recognition. Not yet. But curiosity. Concern.\n\nLeo coughs, a wet, rattling sound that cuts through the noise. My heart drops.\n\nHe needs help. Now.\n\nBut if I let Elias treat him, he’ll run tests. He’ll see the genetic markers. He’ll realize…\n\n'Name?' he asks, stepping forward, clipboard in hand.\n\nI swallow. 'Lila Hart.'\n\nHis pen pauses.\n\nAlmost.