?Chapter 2003:


    Even with the housekeeper and caregiver nearby, there would inevitably be moments of solitude when her vulnerability would be dangerous—when watchful eyes would momentarily look away.


    Ernest feltpletely lost, his mind racing through options, each one seeming inadequate in the face of her despair.


    But somehow, he needed to find the key to unlock her from this prison of self-destruction and guide her back to a ce where she could value both her life and the life growing within her.


    “Rest now,” Ernest whispered softly, his voice heavy with defeat, as he rose from the chair. He walked toward the door, his footsteps echoing with helplessness.


    Behind him, Elissa remained motionless, her back turned, her vacant stare fixed on the sterile hospital floor. Her eyes werepletely devoid of emotion—no joy, no anger, no fear, no sorrow—just an empty emptiness that seemed to stretch on endlessly.


    When the water had closed over her head and her lungs had begun to burn with the desperate need for air, Elissa had been certain that death would finally im her. But it hadn’t.


    Now, she found herself trapped in a limbo of existence, uncertain of what path remained avable to her.


    Dark thoughts crept through her mind—perhaps a de against her wrist or a leap from a great height would seed where the water had failed her. But she realized that suicide demanded a kind of courage she wasn’t certain she still possessed, especially after her first attempt had failed.


    Moreover, her failed attempt had surely alerted Ernest to her intentions, and she knew Ernest would watch her with the intensity of a hawk circling its prey. Elissa’s eyes fluttered shut as tears carved silent paths down her pale cheeks, and she whispered into the empty room, “Living has be unbearable, yet dying remains beyond my reach.”


    Ernest stayed away for the remainder of the day, leaving Elissa alone with her thoughts and the sterile silence of the hospital room.


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    Around four in the afternoon, Ernest’s pen moved across the final document before he slid the papers toward Quentin. “Have the car ready.”


    “An unexpected trip?” Quentin’s eyebrows rose with surprise as he gathered the documents.


    As the keeper of Ernest’s meticulously nned schedule, Quentin knew there had been no appointments arranged for this hour.


    “Yes,” Ernest’s nod was decisive as he rose from his chair and retrieved his suit jacket from its ce on the coat rack. His stride carried purpose as he added, “I’m collecting Locke personally today.”


    At Locke’s school, 4:20 PM,


    The dismissal bell chimed with perfect punctuality, its familiar sound echoing across the schoolyard. The school gates swung wide, releasing streams of children who emerged in orderly lines, the youngest students leading the daily parade toward freedom. Ernest’s eyes swept across the sea of small faces until they found their target—Locke’s bright features stood out like a beacon, and in that instant, father and son’s gazes connected across the bustling schoolyard.


    “Dad!” Locke’s voice bubbled with excitement as he turned to his teacher. “My father came for me today! I can walk to him by myself now. Thank you and goodbye!”


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