Chapter 15
Luke started school in September.
Private tutors offered.
Elite academies called.
Everyone wanted to be associated with the rescued Torrisi heir.
I hated all of them.
Luke chose a small school near the water.
“Kids there looked normal,” he said.
Normal.
A word worth more than power.
The first week was hard.
He kept food in his backpack.
He avoided lunch tables.
He flinched when teachers raised their voices.
The counselor called me.
“He needs time.”
“He can have all of it.”
One afternoon, a boy made a joke about mafia sons.
Luke punched him.
Hard.
The school called me in.
The principal looked nervous.
I looked at Luke.
“Did he deserve it?”
Luke stared at the floor.
“Yes.”
“Did punching help?”
“No.”
“Then next time, we find something that helps.”
The principal blinked like he expected threats.
I signed the behavior plan.
On the ride home, Luke said, “You’re not mad?”
“I’m concerned.”
“That sounds worse.”
“It is more useful.”
He almost smiled.
Therapy began twice a week.
For him.
For me.
Together.
Dr. Anika Ford did not fear me either.
I was collecting brave women in my life.
She asked Luke what he wanted from me.
He said, “Don’t disappear when I’m difficult.”
The sentence cut deep.
I answered, “I won’t.”
Dr. Ford looked at me.
“Don’t promise what you haven’t practiced.”
So I corrected myself.
“I will learn how to stay.”
Luke accepted that.
Winter came.
The lavender slept under frost.
Luke’s first birthday with me arrived in January.
Fifteen.
I planned nothing grand.
He asked for pizza, chocolate cake, and no speeches.
So we had pizza.
Cake.
No speeches.
Then he handed me a small box.
“It’s not your birthday,” I said.
“I know.”
Inside was the old photograph, newly framed.
Me.
Isabella.
Baby Luke.
On the bottom, he had written:
Found.
My throat closed.
He shrugged, embarrassed.
“Grace said frames make things official.”
I pulled him into my arms.
May you like
For one second, he stiffened.
Then he hugged me back.
