“I don’t want to!” Locke shot his father a defiant look and shook his head.

“What’s gotten into you this time?” Ernest tried to keep his voice steady. Even with his fever, he pushed himself to keep going as a parent.

“Where’s Mommy?” Locke would not budge, his small fists clenched. “Why isn’t she here?”

That question left Ernest speechless. He hesitated, then tried to dodge it. “Finish your food first. We can talk after.”

Locke glared at him and let out a frustrated sound. “Stop pretending! I already know! Mommy’s gone! She doesn’t want me anymore!”

A shadow crossed Ernest’s face. He leaned closer and said sternly, “Who put those ideas in your head? Where did you hear that?”

His eyes swept over the household staff, suspicion sharp in his voice. “Has anyone here been filling Locke’s mind with nonsense?”

“It wasn’t any of us.”

“We never said a word.”

One by one, the staff dropped their heads, denying it quietly.

“Nobody had to tell me!” Locke’s cheeks were wet with tears as he cried out, “I just know! Mommy’s gone! She didn’t even say goodbye! She left when I was still asleep! She doesn’t want me anymore!”

“That’s not true at all!” Anger flared across Ernest’s face. He pulled Locke onto his lap and delivered a solid swat. “Don’t you ever talk about your mother like that. She’s your mom. You have no right to say those things about her. Your mother cares for you more than anyone ever could. When you were hurt, she stayed up night after night, never letting herself sleep. Is this how you show your gratitude? After everything she’s done for you? You’re acting like a spoiled, ungrateful child. She did not raise you to behave this way.”

The next few swats landed with a mix of frustration and heartbreak, steady and controlled.

Locke let out a sharp cry, both hurt and deeply upset.

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His sobs echoed through the room as he squeezed his eyes shut and wailed, “Mommy! I want Mommy!”

Ernest, unable to hide his irritation, barked, “Now you’re crying for your mother? A minute ago, you were blaming her for abandoning you!”

“I was wrong!” Through his tears, Locke whimpered, “She does love me! I know she does! But I’m still so sad. She left me!”

He wiped at his cheeks with pudgy hands and shot Ernest a wounded look. “I know Mom doesn’t care about you! But why couldn’t she take me with her? I want Mommy back!”

Upon seeing his son in tears, Ernest’s anger faded. He nearly broke down himself, but he forced himself to hold it together. There were so many things he wished he could say, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to tell Locke that Elissa might be gone for good.

That idea was unbearable.

He shoved the thought aside, refusing to believe it. He forced himself to reject it right away.

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