The first week back home, Matteo acted like nothing had ever happened.
He laughed. He played. He ran through the halls of Marco’s estate like he had never been taken.
Like he had never been brainwashed. Like Ella had never whispered lies into his head. Carmen wanted to believe it was real. Wanted to believe that Matteo was truly back.
Because every time he called her Mama again, her heart stitched itself back together, piece by piece.
But there was something… off. And Carmen felt it in her bones.
Marco had asked her to stay. For Matteo. So she did. But not in their old bedroom.
She stayed in the guest bedroom down the hall, where the walls felt too cold, too unfamiliar.
She didn’t argue. Because this wasn’t about her or Marco. This was about Matteo. She had lost her son once.
She refused to let it happen again.
Even if it meant sleeping under the same roof as Marco, pretending like they weren’t broken.
Pretending like he hadn’t thrown her away.
Day after day, Matteo acted like the perfect little boy. He smiled when he was supposed to. Laughed at the right moments. Hugged them when they opened their arms.
But there was something about him that didn’t sit right. Carmen noticed it in the little things.
The way he sometimes stared too long at nothing. The way his fingers would fidget with the hem of his shirt, like he was trying to remember something but couldn’t.
The way he never spoke about the time he spent with Ella. Not once. As if it had been erased.
Marco didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did, but refused to acknowledge it.
Instead, he threw himself into work, acting like things were back to normal.
But Carmen?
She knew better. Because a mother knows.
And Matteo? Matteo wasn’t okay.
Carmen had trouble sleeping that night. The house was too silent. She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling like something was watching her.
It was a ridiculous thought. She was in Marco’s heavily guarded estate. Safe. Matteo was asleep.
Marco was somewhere in his office, probably drinking away his regrets. Everything was fine.
But then—
A feeling crawled down her spine. The feeling of being watched. Slowly, Carmen turned her head toward the door.
And then—her heart stopped.
Matteo was standing there. In the doorway. Staring at her. His little face was blank, expressionless. His small hands hung at his sides, motionless.
He wasn’t crying. Wasn’t calling for her. Wasn’t saying anything.
He was just…
Watching.