Chapter 17: The Echoes of Trauma
Healing, however, was not a linear path.
That night, the quiet of the penthouse was shattered by a piercing scream. Ethan was out of bed in a flash, but Clara, whose room was right across the hall from Leo’s, beat him to the door.
Leo was thrashing in his bed, his small hands clutching the blankets as tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. Clara scooped him into her arms without hesitation, rocking him gently.
"I've got you, Leo. Clara's here. You're safe," she whispered, over and over.
Ethan stood in the doorway, his heart breaking as he watched his son tremble. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping his large arms around both of them.
"The bad lady," Leo sobbed into Clara’s shoulder. "She pushed me."
"The bad lady is locked away, buddy," Ethan said, his voice thick with emotion. He gently stroked his son’s hair, realizing how much time he had lost playing the distant, grieving widower. "She can never, ever hurt you again. I promise you."
They stayed like that for an hour, the three of them huddled on the small bed until Leo’s breathing finally leveled out and he drifted back to sleep. Ethan looked at Clara in the dim moonlight filtering through the window.
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"I failed him for so long," Ethan whispered, the guilt heavy in his chest.
"You were blinded by grief, Ethan. And Victoria used that," Clara replied softly, laying Leo back against the pillows. "But you're here now. That’s what matters."
