Eric shook his head, his voice steady. “He’s not thinking about that. Not after what just happened.”

A sharp ache stabbed Hadley’s chest. Right now, with Elissa and Locke missing, even pain and injury faded into the background for Ernest.

“Come on.” Eric rested a comforting hand on Hadley’s shoulder and led her toward the door.

Upstairs, Ernest wandered in a haze. Usually, Locke would have been tucked in bed, and Elissa would have retreated quietly to their room.

Silence had always been part of the villa at this hour, but this time it felt heavy and unnatural. Their presence, once unmistakable even in stillness, was gone. A cold emptiness lingered.

Ernest reached the master bedroom, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. Nothing seemed out of place. Everything remained as it had been.

Elissa hadn’t taken a single thing when she left.

Sheets lay tangled, carelessly left behind.

Ernest scowled, realizing she must have left in a rush the night before. Leaving always meant moving in haste.

A heavy swallow caught in his throat as he dropped onto the edge of the bed, pressing his eyes shut and burying his face in the tangled sheets.

Elissa’s scent clung softly to the fabric.

“Elissa, Elissa…” Ernest whispered, his words muffled and raw. “Didn’t I promise you? I told you it wouldn’t last forever. I swore you wouldn’t always be a secret. Why couldn’t you trust me?”

A dull ache pulsed through Ernest’s hand. Pulling his fingers from the sheets, he saw blood pulsing even harder from his wounds.

He shook with pain and frustration, pushed himself up, and stumbled into the bathroom. Cold water rushed from the faucet as he tried to wash away the blood.

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Nothing worked. The bleeding only got worse.

A sudden wave of anger overtook him. Ernest smashed his injured hand against the mirror with all his strength.

Glass exploded everywhere. Shards dug into his skin, sending blood streaming down his arm.

Just outside, Quentin lingered near the open doorway. The crash made him jump.

“Mr. Flynn! I’m coming in!” Quentin burst into the room without a second thought.

What he saw left him stunned. “Mr. Flynn!”

Immediately, Quentin rushed over and seized Ernest’s wrist. “Mr. Flynn, please—”

Words failed him. No phrase could erase the ache of Elissa and Locke’s disappearance.

After a deep breath, Quentin found his voice. “You have to pull yourself together! Miss Holland and Locke are still out there waiting for you!”

“They are… waiting for me?” Ernest echoed, confusion flickering in his eyes.

“Exactly!” Quentin pressed on. “We don’t have the whole story yet. Miracles do happen.”

Miracles. Ernest clung to the word.

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