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Chapter 5 - The First Step of Trust

Laya was sitting in the corner of the playroom, building a fragile tower out of wooden blocks, clutching her rag doll tightly under one arm. When the door opened and Margaret walked in accompanied by the tall, intimidating man from yesterday, the little girl instinctively shrank back, her large eyes filled with apprehension.

Elliot noticed the retreat. He remembered his own childhood terror after the night his sister vanished—the paralyzing fear that everyone he loved would eventually disappear into the dark.

He didn't rush toward her. Instead, he knelt down right at the doorway, several feet away, matching his posture to her small scale. He slowly unbuttoned his expensive wool coat and let it slide off his shoulders onto the floor, stripping away the symbols of his power and wealth until he was just a man in a simple white shirt.

"Hello, Laya," Elliot said softly, keeping his voice gentle and even.

The little girl clutched the faded pink dress of her doll. "Are you here to take the blocks away?" she whispered. "I was only using them because nobody else wanted them."

"No, Laya," Elliot replied, a lump forming in his throat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, roughly carved wooden block shaped like a clumsy little bird—an exact replica of the toys he used to carve for Maisie when they were children. He placed it on the floor and gently slid it forward across the linoleum. "I'm here to give something to you."

Laya looked at the wooden bird, then up at Elliot’s face. Slowly, cautiously, she crawled forward on her hands and knees. She picked up the wooden bird, turning it over in her small palms.

"My mom used to talk about a bird like this," Laya murmured, her voice trembling. "She said she remembered it from a dream before she got sick. She said it meant someone loved her once, long ago, before she was all alone."

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Elliot couldn't hold back the tears any longer. A single tear broke free and traced down his cheek. He reached out, stopping just short of touching her.

"She wasn't alone, Laya," Elliot said, his voice breaking with emotion. "And neither are you. Your mom was my little sister. That makes you my niece. And I am never, ever going to let you go."

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