Savannah’s heart twisted.
After all, Locke was her grandson—the child she had once held as a newborn, the baby whose first cry had echoed in her ears.
And yet… it had been her, Savannah, who had made the gut-wrenching decision to send him away.
She knew the stories now—how he had shuffled through adoptive homes, spent endless nights in orphanages, clung to unfamiliar hands and cried for the mother he couldn’t remember. Elissa had told her everything.
Even so, blood ties were not so easily severed.
“Don’t cry, Locke,” Savannah whispered, brushing her fingers gently across his tear-streaked cheek. Her voice trembled with emotion. “Mommy will stay with you.”
“Really?” Locke’s entire face lit up as he nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Grandma!”
Without another word, he darted back to Elissa, joy overtaking his sorrow. “Mommy! Mommy!” he called breathlessly. “Grandma said you can stay! You don’t have to go anymore!”
Elissa knelt and scooped him into her arms, holding him close. Her gaze lifted slowly, locking with Savannah’s—filled with questions, with gratitude, with conflict.
Savannah gave her a gentle nod. “Take care of Locke… for now.”
She would give her daughter these moments. One last pause before the road ahead.
“Okay,” Elissa whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears as she wrapped her arms tightly around Locke. She didn’t want to let go—not of him, not of this moment.
Ernest stood nearby, his expression unreadable—yet his chest swelled with a quiet, private joy. Without hesitation, he turned to Quentin. “Bring the car around. Quickly.”
“Yes, Mr. Flynn,” Quentin replied, already moving.
Ernest then looked to Savannah and spoke with courteous insistence. “Mrs. Brown, please join us. The Flynn Mansion is spacious, far more comfortable than a hotel.”
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“That’s your home, not mine.” Her gaze was sharp, unflinching. “Don’t misunderstand, Mr. Flynn. My stance hasn’t changed.”
Locke needed Elissa—that much was clear. And for that reason alone, she would allow this brief delay.
“We’ll still leave Srixby as scheduled—the day after tomorrow,” she added, her voice firm. She would not waver.
Turning back to Elissa, Savannah softened her tone. “I’ll head back to the hotel. I’ll call you later.”
“Alright, Mom. Be safe,” Elissa replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t worry.”
Ernest moved to open the car door, disappointment flickering briefly across his features. “Driver, make sure Mrs. Brown gets back to her hotel safely.”
But Savannah halted in her tracks. “That won’t be necessary,” she said plainly. “I’ll call a cab.”
Without waiting for a response, she walked past him, chin lifted, striding straight toward the hospital entrance.
.
.
.