<b>Chapter </b><b>311 </b>
OLIVIA
I poured a cup <b>of </b><b>tea</b><b>, </b>my hands shaking. The house was silent, too silent. No more sounds <b>of </b>Samuel running around. Just quiet. The kind <b>of </b>quiet that makes you feel like something’s wrong, even when nothing’s <b>happening </b>
The door opened. Nick’s mother walked in, her clothes covered in blood–blood that wasn’t hers. She looked like she’d juste from a fight, like she’d been in the middle of something dangerous. Her hair was messy, her face pale, and she stumbled like she didn’t know where she was
I froze. “Why did youe here like this?” I snapped, my voice sharp. I didn’t mean to sound so angry, but the sight of her like that–it set me off.
She stared at me, confused. “I didn’t think,” she stammered. “I had to deal with the men we caught. I thought I could check on the kids. I didn’t realize I still had blood on me.”
I cut her off. “You didn’t think? Samuel’s still scared after the shooting. And you show up like this? What if he sees you? How do you think that’ll affect him?”
She stepped back, looking guilty. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Get out,” I said, my voice firm. I didn’t want to hear her excuses. Not now. Not after everything.
She hesitated. “Olivia, please-”
I turned away, not wanting to hear it. I walked toward the stairs, but her voice stopped me. “Olivia, I didn’t do it on purpose!”
I turned back. “Where were you during the shooting? You chose not to be here. You were out ying gangster while we were here, living through it. You couldn’t even handle one day with the kids, could you? Go back to your life. That’s what makes you happy, isn’t it?”
Her face paled, but I didn’t care. I walked upstairs, heading to Samuel’s room. He’d seen too much–the gunshots, the blood, the bodies. He was just a kid. He shouldn’t have had to see that. But he did, and now he couldn’t sleep. He flinched at every loud noise, and his nightmares kept him awake at night.
I stopped outside his door, listening to his quiet breathing. <b>He </b>was trying to sleep, trying to forget. But I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Kids don’t just forget things like that They carry it with them, even when they don’t talk
about it.
“I’m sorry,” she called from downstairs. But I didn’t go back. I’d said what I needed to say. Now, I had to focus on Samuel. On helping him heal. Because in this house, we couldn’t let the past take over. Not now. Not when my son was still so young.
I knocked softly on his door. “Samuel? It’s me. Can Ie in?”
There was a pause, then a quiet, “Yeah.”
I opened the door and saw him sitting on his bed, his knees pulled up to his chest. He looked small, too small for everything he’d been through. I sat down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders.
<b>“</b>You okay?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
He shook his head. “I keep hearing the shots. And I see… the blood.”
I pulled him closer. <b>“</b><b>I </b>know. But you’re safe now. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
He didn’t say anything, just leaned into me. I held him tight, wishing I could take all the fear and pain away. But I
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<b>Chapter </b><b>311 </b>
<b>couldn’t</b>. All I could <b>do </b><b>was </b><b>be </b>there <b>for him</b>, <b>help </b>him <b>through </b><b>it</b>.
<b>Downstairs</b>, <b>I </b>could still hear Nick’s mother moving around but I ignored her. She’d made her choices<b>, </b><b>and </b><b>now </b>she had to live with them. My focus was on Samuel. On <b>making </b>sure he felt <b>safe</b><b>, </b>even when the world <b>felt </b>anything but.
<b>“</b><b>You </b>want to talk about it?” I asked him.
He shook his head again. “Not yet.
<b>“</b>That’s <b>okay</b><b>,</b><b>” </b>I said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
We sat there in silence for a while, just holding onto each other. The house was <b>still </b>quiet<b>, </b>but it felt a <b>little </b>less heavy. Samuel’s breathing slowed, and I could tell he was starting to rx.
“Mom?” he said after a while.
“Yeah?”