Carmen’s breath caught in her throat as she knelt in front of Matteo, her hands trembling.
Tears streaked down his small cheeks, his little body shaking with fear.
But it wasn’t the kind of fear a child should have for his mother.
It was fear of her.
“Matteo, sweetheart,” Carmen whispered, reaching for him carefully, her fingers barely inches away from his. “It’s me. It’s Mama. We’re here to take you home, baby.”
Matteo’s lips quivered.
His brown eyes—**the same ones that once lit up every time he saw her—**were now clouded with doubt.
And then, he whispered it.
“You left me.”
Carmen felt like the floor had been ripped from under her.
“No,” she gasped, shaking her head violently. “No, baby, I never left you.”
But Matteo kept shaking his own head, stepping back.
“I don’t want to go with you,” he choked out, his tiny voice breaking with confusion.
“You’re going to kill me.”
Carmen froze.
For a moment, she couldn’t even breathe.
“What?” she whispered, her hands dropping to her sides. “Matteo, why would you—why would you say that?”
Matteo didn’t answer. His body stiffened, his small fists clenching at his sides.
Ella’s words still echoed in his mind like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.
“They don’t love you, Rafael. They never did.”
“They’re coming here to hurt you.”
“I will protect you, my love. I will always protect you.”
His head hurt. His chest felt tight. He wanted to believe Carmen. Wanted to run into her arms, feel safe again. But Ella’s voice was louder.
Stronger.
“That’s not true, baby,” Carmen pleaded, her voice cracking.
She reached forward again, this time grabbing his tiny hands, desperate to keep him from slipping further away.
“I’m not going to kill you. I would never hurt you.”
Matteo stiffened in her grasp. His heart pounded painfully. He didn’t know what to believe. One part of him recognized her warmth, her touch, her voice.
The other part—the part Ella had twisted—told him to run.
“I’m your mother,” Carmen whispered, gripping his hands tighter, as if letting go meant losing him forever.
Matteo’s breathing grew uneven. A memory flickered in his mind—a good one. His mother holding him in her lap, reading him a bedtime story.
Humming softly as he curled up against her chest. It felt… safe. It felt real. But then—
Ella’s voice pushed through the memory, sharp like a blade.
“She never wanted you, Rafael. If she did, she wouldn’t have let you go so easily.”
Matteo’s small hands shook in Carmen’s grasp. His breathing hitched. His mother never wanted him. She was only here now because she had to be.
Not because she loved him.
“No,” Matteo whispered again, his voice small, pained.
He pulled his hands away suddenly, stepping back.
Carmen’s heart shattered. “Matteo, please,” she whispered, her arms aching to pull him close.
But Matteo kept shaking his head, his whole body trembling.
“She told me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t want me.”
Carmen’s eyes blurred with tears.
“That’s a lie,” she choked out. “Baby, I want you more than anything in this world.”
Marco, who had been silent the entire time, finally stepped forward.
His chest was tight, his throat dry. His son—his little boy—was looking at them like they were monsters.
And it destroyed him.
“Matteo,” Marco’s voice was low, steady.
Matteo’s eyes snapped up. For the first time since they walked in, he really looked at Marco.
Marco swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing his voice to remain calm.
“We are not here to hurt you.”
Matteo’s lip trembled. His mind fought against everything he had been told. But the fear was still there. Buried so deep, it controlled him.
“You’re lying,” he whispered.