CHAPTER 100: 100

Nyxella buried her tiny face in my chest, her sobs coming in broken hiccups that trembled through her small frame. For a long moment, I simply stood there frozen between confusion and something that felt... foreign. The warmth of her body, the way her tiny fists clutched at my shirt as if I were her safe place, it stirred something deep inside, something I couldn’t quite name.

Was this what fathers felt when their child cried?

That sharp ache in the chest, the instinct to protect and soothe, the helplessness that came from knowing words could not immediately fix it?

Her tears soaked through my shirt, mixing with the faint scent of milk and soap that lingered on her skin. I turned slightly, catching sight of Elisa. Her eyes glistened, silent tears suspended on her lashes as she stared at us. The look on her face filled with guilt, sorrow, and a quiet kind of love made my throat tighten unexpectedly.

"Have a seat," I said quietly, my voice gentler than I intended. "I’ll get her changed."

Without waiting for her response, I turned and headed toward my room, Nyxella still clinging to me like a small, frightened bird.

Inside my room, the soft hum of the air conditioner met her hiccuping sobs. I sat on the edge of the bed and shifted her slightly on my lap.

"Hey, hey... look at me, little one," I murmured, brushing away a tear that streaked across her damp cheek. Her lashes were wet, her lips trembling as she took short, shallow breaths. "You’ve got quite the lungs, don’t you?" I tried to tease, my tone light, though the weight in my chest remained. "Who knew someone so tiny could cry this much?"

She only stared up at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly, hiccups still breaking her rhythm. I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. It felt natural, and almost right.

"Let’s get you changed," I said softly, reaching for the buttons on her tiny dress.

I slipped the damp fabric off her and grabbed a towel, gently patting her dry. She sniffled and squirmed, but she didn’t protest. When I lifted her slightly, I realized her diaper was full, and I let out a low chuckle.

"Well, this just keeps getting better," I muttered to myself with a dry laugh. "Here I was, thinking I’d outgrown babysitting duties for life."

I quickly discarded the soiled diaper and wiped her clean before looking around the room. My shirt was drenched, and the idea of walking back into the dining room half-naked didn’t sit right with me. With a sigh, I grabbed one of my fresh shirts from the wardrobe a simple white button-up.

I slipped it over her small frame, rolling the sleeves up so her tiny hands could peek out. It hung loosely on her like a miniature gown, and despite everything, the sight drew a faint chuckle from my lips.

But then something caught my eye.

The morning sunlight filtered through the half-open blinds, landing on a delicate shimmer at her neck. A pendant small, heart-shaped glimmered as she moved.

My breath hitched.

That pendant... it looked exactly like the one I’d given Carmela before the unfortunate event. It was the same curve, with the same faint engraving along the edge. My hand moved almost on its own as I reached out and tilted the locket gently. My thumb brushed over its smooth surface, and when I opened it, I found it empty. No photo. No inscription. Just an echo of something that may have once belonged to someone else.

A chill rippled through me.

Coincidence? Maybe. But a part of me whispered otherwise.

What if Elisa Sorreto wasn’t who she claimed to be? What if every calculated look, every quiet hesitation, was part of something deeper?

I looked down at Nyxella again, her wide, innocent eyes blinking up at me. For a second, I saw Carmela’s expression in her that same spark, that same tilt of the lips. Made my jaw tightened.

Shaking the thought away, I fastened the pendant back around her neck and exhaled. "You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?" I murmured, forcing a small smile as I brushed a strand of hair off her forehead.

She only yawned in response, the earlier storm of tears now replaced by quiet, sleepy snuffles.

"Let’s get you back before your mother thinks I ran off with you," I said, lifting her gently into my arms.

When we returned to the dining room, Elisa was still seated — her fingers nervously intertwined on her lap. The worry in her eyes softened the moment she saw Nyxella resting peacefully against my chest, wrapped in my oversized shirt.

Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to speak, but the words never came.

"Crisis averted," I said simply, handing Nyxella back to her mother. The little one was already half-asleep, her head resting on Elisa’s shoulder as if nothing had happened. Elisa’s arms instinctively tightened around her, her cheek brushing the top of Nyxella’s head with quiet relief.

Before the silence could stretch too long, the rhythmic sound of polished shoes echoed from the corridor. The butler appeared in the doorway, his posture as straight as ever, hands clasped neatly in front of him.

"Sir," he announced with his usual composure, "your luggage has been loaded. The car is ready.

"I guess it’s time to go." I sighed glancing at the clock. We were cutting it close.

Elisa rose, cradling Nyxella carefully. "What about her clothes?" she asked, her tone gentle but threaded with worry. The oversized shirt she wore looked almost comical against the tiny girl’s frame, the hem hanging like a small gown around her feet.

"I have a thick jacket," I said, reaching for one folded over the arm of the couch. "You can wrap her in that. Once we get there, we’ll get her some clothes."

I didn’t miss the faint flicker of discomfort in Elisa’s eyes, the hesitance of a mother walking into an uncertain situation but she said nothing. Instead, she accepted the jacket with a quiet "thank you," wrapping Nyxella securely in it.

Outside, the morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew and distant pine from the gardens that surrounded the estate. The driveway stretched out like a smooth ribbon of asphalt, glistening faintly under the rising sun. The black sedan waited at the end of it, its surface polished enough to mirror the surrounding manicured hedges.

The butler opened the car door for Elisa first. She slid in carefully, still holding her sleeping daughter and I followed, adjusting my cufflinks out of habit before ducking into the back seat. The door shut with a soft click, sealing us into the quiet hum of the vehicle.

As the car began to move, I watched through the tinted window the house shrinking in the distance, its sharp architectural lines standing proudly against the pale sky. I’d grown up between walls like those, built from cold stone and colder expectations. Yet, somehow, it felt heavier leaving it now than it ever had before.

Elisa sat quietly beside me. Nyxella stirred once, her small fingers clutching at the edge of the jacket, then settled again. The hum of the tires against the road filled the silence. Occasionally, Elisa glanced at me as though she wanted to speak, but each time her lips parted, she seemed to think better of it.

I didn’t blame her. I wasn’t even sure what to say.

By the time we reached the airport, the city had fully awakened. The once-soft morning light had turned sharper, bouncing off glass buildings and streaks of chrome. The chauffeur drove straight to the private terminal, where two attendants in navy uniforms stood waiting beside the steps of a sleek, charcoal-gray jet bearing the company insignia.

The air carried the faint scent of jet fuel mixed with coffee from a nearby lounge. Somewhere, a luggage trolley rattled over the tiled floor.

The butler stepped out first, opening the door with his usual precision. "We’ve arrived, sir."

I stepped out, buttoning my jacket against the mild wind. The runway stretched endlessly ahead, dotted with moving silhouettes and flashing beacons. Elisa followed behind me, shielding Nyxella from the chill, the jacket’s sleeves still comically long around her.

For a brief moment, I glanced over at them the image of mother and child framed against the expanse of gray and silver. It shouldn’t have made me pause, but it did. Something about the scene felt disarmingly natural, as though they’d always been part of this picture and I’d simply been too blind to notice before.

"Come on," I said, breaking the moment. "We’ll be taking off in a few minutes."

The attendant ushered us toward the stairway, her professional smile unwavering. I motioned for Elisa to go first. But she hesitated briefly, her hand tightening around Nyxella then began the slow climb, careful with each step. I followed, the wind tugging lightly at my coat.

Inside, the cabin was comfortably luxurious with soft beige leather seats, warm ambient lighting, and a faint scent of vanilla from the air system. Elisa sank into the seat across from me, adjusting Nyxella who was now fully asleep, her cheek pressed to her mother’s chest.

"Once we land," I said, loosening my tie slightly, "you’ll have time to rest before we start going over the project details."

She nodded but didn’t speak. Her gaze was fixed on her child, with an unreadable expression.

I leaned back, glancing briefly out the window as the crew began final checks. Engines hummed to life and a low, steady vibration that filled the cabin. Outside, the ground crew signaled with bright orange batons, and the runway lights blinked in even intervals.

The jet began to taxi forward. Elisa looked out, her reflection catching mine in the glass.

In that mirrored moment her eyes faintly shadowed with fatigue,but mine with a mix of suspicion and something dangerously close to curiosity.

I realized just how tangled this had all become.