The night deepened around the hospital.
With the holiday break coming to an end in just a couple of days, Miranda had a stack of cases awaiting her attention and couldn’t linger around indefinitely. She had already headed back to prepare for work.
Eugene had just stepped out after receiving a call from his mentor, leaving Mila alone in the room with the child.
She was playing a board game with Julian.
Having spent several days with the boy, Mila noticed something unsettling about him. He was too quiet, almost unnaturally so, and rarely smiled.
The only times she had seen any strong emotions from him were when he ran to her for help while being pursued by kidnappers, when he saw his uncle, and when his uncle tried to take him away from her. Otherwise, he was overly compliant, sticking close to her, doing whatever he was told—like a well-behaved puppet.
He seemed a bit withdrawn, the complete opposite of Adrian’s vibrant and willful personality.
Despite his young age, Mila felt that Julian might really benefit from some professional psychological support, but that was a decision for the Pembroke Family to make, not her concern.
The two were in the middle of a game of Parcheesi, a set Miranda had bought.
It was Julian’s turn to roll the dice. He gently shook them in his small hands and tossed them onto the table propped up over the hospital bed.
A six.
Mila clapped her hands, Wow, Julian, that’s amazing—a six! You get to roll again. You’re getting closer to the finish line!
His eyes sparkled as he glanced at Mila. Encouraged by her enthusiasm, he picked up the dice and rolled again.
This time it was a three.
Mila was excited, Wow, a three! Jump over these spaces and you can fly your piece across!
Just as Julian was about to move his piece according to Mila’s guidance, the door to the room opened suddenly, causing a slight tremor in his hand.
Leonard walked in.
Seeing him, Mila instinctively frowned. What was he doing here?
What do you want?
Leonard glanced at the child quietly playing with his Lego and handed over a plate of freshly sliced apples. Madam, Mr. Pembroke asked me to check on you.
Mila didn’t take the plate, looking puzzled. What’s his issue now?
Leonard paused, withdrawing the plate with an impassive expression. Mr. Pembroke is unwell these days, which is why he sent me.
Lysander, with his almost indestructible health, sick?
So, if he weren’t sick, he would have come himself? She might as well thank the gods of illness.
Mila smiled wryly, What terminal illness?
If circumstances allowed, and without any cost, she wouldn’t mind being a widow.
She’d still be good to her in-laws.