Her fingers trembled, but she didn’t hesitate. She reached for him. Her hand wrapped around his. Small. Cold. Fragile.

  "Atticus…" "I won’t abandon you. I swear."

  Atticus lifted his gaze. His eyes flickered to where her delicate, porcelain-white fingers were wrapped around his own.

  Then, slowly, he lifted his head. His lips, soft and pale, parted slightly. "And what if you break your promise?"

  She hadn’t expected that. For a moment, she didn’t know how to answer.

  Atticus glanced at the IV in his arm, then exhaled softly. "Promises are worthless without consequences."

  "People take them back whenever it’s convenient. Just like my real parents did. Just like James and his family did."

  "Clarissa, if you break your promise… I will make you pay the price."

  She froze. For a split second, a strange chill ran through her. It was only a moment, but—for that moment—Atticus didn’t feel like a helpless, abandoned boy. Something darker and dangerous.

  Clarissa blinked, pushing the thought away. It had to be her imagination. He was just scared of being abandoned again.

  Steeling herself, she tightened her grip on his hand. "I won’t break my promise." She took a breath, then added, "And if I do… no matter the punishment, I won’t regret it."

  Atticus smiled, not the cold, bitter smile from earlier. Something beautiful. His dark eyes shimmered, like the first bloom of spring breaking through the ice.

  "Good," he murmured. "I’ll remember that."

  .....

  Atticus stayed in the hospital for a week. By then, Clarissa’s vacation was nearly over.

  Clementine had noticed how often Clarissa had been going out lately. At first, she thought nothing of it, but as the days passed, worry crept in. She had a bad feeling—until Clarissa walked through the door… with a boy trailing behind her.

  Clementine and Callum both froze.

  "Clarissa, what… what is going on? He...." She glanced toward the living room, where Atticus sat stiffly on the couch.

  He was wearing a washed-out T-shirt and an old pair of school pants. But even in the plainest of clothes, he stood out.

  His posture was straight, composed—neither arrogant nor meek, neither aggressive nor submissive. There was something unnaturally poised about him.

  Clarissa explained the situation in broad strokes, then finished with, "He has nowhere to go. I want to take him in for now."

  Clementine’s frown deepened. Before she could even open her mouth, Callum slammed his cane against the floor.

  "Nonsense! Do you think this is a game? A child playing house? He’s not a stray cat or dog—he’s a person! A living, breathing person! You’re still a child yourself—how the hell do you plan to take care of him?"

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  Clementine sighed, shaking her head. "Clarissa, your grandfather is right. You can’t just bring someone home like this."

  She lowered her voice. "And…" She hesitated, her gaze drifting toward Atticus again. There was something off about this boy. Something that sent an instinctive prickle down her spine. He was too beautiful.

  No normal child should look like that. Sharp, elegant features. Eyes too deep, too knowing for his age.

  Clarissa, however, was unmoved. "Money isn’t an issue." She spoke confidently. "I can afford to support one more person. I just need to get him through school. He’s smart. If he’s given a real education, he could grow into someone extraordinary."

  She turned to Clementine with a pleading expression, "Mom, please… It’s just one more set of tableware. Just one more room. Think of it as a good deed. He really has nowhere else to go—would you rather see a child sleeping on the streets?"

  Clementine glanced at the thin, quiet boy sitting across the room. His hands rested neatly in his lap. He wasn’t saying a word. Not begging. Not resisting. Just waiting.

  Her heart softened. "Well… then…" Uncertain, she turned toward Callum. "Dad, what do you think?"

  Callum snorted, crossing his arms. "Hmph. You’ve already decided. Why ask me?" Still, his sharp eyes flickered toward Atticus again.

  For a split second, something unreadable passed through them. Finally, he exhaled. "If you’re going to take him in, don’t half-ass it. Enroll him in a proper school in the city. Give him a real education. That’s the only decent way to do this."

  Clarissa nodded. "I was thinking the same thing." At least this way, by the time he became an adult, he wouldn’t have to face the orphanage. Or worse—go crawling back to stupid relatives like James..

  With the decision made, Atticus officially stayed.

  ....

  Clarissa was due back at school in a few days. The night before her departure, she spent the entire day playing chess with Callum. Clementine, despite her earlier resistance, prepared a lavish farewell dinner.

  The food was warm. The house was lively. But Callum, as usual, kept his face stern. That morning, before she left, he handed her something.

  A bracelet. "Wear it."

  Clarissa blinked, inspecting the piece. It was deep crimson, smooth and polished—its surface gleaming in the sunlight. Against her fair skin, the color stood out starkly.

  She instinctively knew it was expensive. Priceless, even. "…?"

  Callum frowned. "Old-fashioned, don’t you?"

  Before she could answer, he continued, "I don’t care. I gave it to you. You wear it. And you don’t take it off."*

  Clarissa couldn’t help but laugh. "I love it," she said sincerely. "I’ll wear it forever."

  Callum finally seemed satisfied. His voice dropped slightly, rough around the edges. "It was your grandmother’s. She loved it more than anything."

  There was a brief pause. Then, he sighed. "Now it’s yours."

  His eyes softened—for just a second. Then, as if realizing he was being too sentimental, he quickly turned away. "You’re terrible at chess. Don’t come back unless you get better."

  Clarissa grinned. She called after him, "Grandpa, I’ll be back! And when I am, we’re playing again!"

  The house stayed silent. But she knew he’d heard her.

  She turned back toward the car, scanning the yard. "Where’s Atticus?"

  Clementine glanced around and shook her head. "I don’t know. I haven’t seen him all morning. Maybe he went to say goodbye to his old classmates."

  Just as she finished speaking, Atticus appeared. Clarissa’s eyes swept over him. Two layers of clothing. One was a school uniform. The other, something old and worn.

  She made a mental note—first thing they’d do when they got back was buy him proper clothes.

  "Where did you go?" she asked casually.

  Atticus didn’t hesitate. "Said my goodbyes." Then, said, "Can we go now?"

  Clarissa nearly laughed. He was in such a hurry to leave. "Alright, get in the car."

  Clementine, still uneasy around the boy, slipped into the passenger seat ahead of him. Atticus took the back seat, leaning against the window as the car pulled away.

  He watched the scenery fade in the distance. Then, ever so slightly—the corners of his lips curved into a smile. A slow, knowing smile.

  .....

  "Bro Atticus, who was that beautiful sister?" Zane’s voice was cautious.

  "What?" Atticus’s gaze flicked toward him. "Curious?"

  Feeling the weight of that look, Zane flinched. "No, no… I mean, congratulations, Atticus, for finally getting away from Jasper’s family. I’m happy for you!"

  Atticus reached into his pocket, pulling out a crisp wad of cash. "Take it. And keep your mouth shut."

  Zane’s face lit up. "Of course! Of course!" He eagerly counted the bills, fingers trembling with excitement. Just as Atticus turned to leave, Zane hesitated—then blurted out: "Hey—so you’re really just letting Jasper’s family off the hook?"