The Billionaire's Stolen Angel: A Painful Return

Estelle walked out of the bathroom wearing a silk nightgown that was two sizes too big. It hung off her bony shoulders.

Eleanor was waiting with a hair dryer.

"Sit," she said softly, patting the vanity stool.

The warm air blew through Estelle's wet hair. Eleanor's fingers were gentle, detangling the knots without pulling. It was a rhythmic, hypnotic sensation.

On the vanity table, there was a row of silver-framed photos.

"Let me introduce you to the rest of the circus," Eleanor said, picking up the first frame.

It was a man in a dark suit, standing in a glass office high above a city. He wasn't smiling. He looked intense, sharp, dangerous.

"This is Guilford," Eleanor said. "Your oldest brother. He runs the company in New York. He looks scary, I know. People call him a shark."

Estelle shivered. "Is he mean?"

"To the world? Yes. Brutal," Eleanor said, placing the photo back. "But he's on a helicopter right now, flying through a storm to get to you. For you, he'll be a teddy bear. A very large, angry teddy bear."

She pointed to another photo. A boy with bleached hair leaning against a race car, grinning like a maniac.

"That's Bo. Number four. He drives fast cars and breaks things. He'll be here tomorrow."

Estelle memorized their faces. The Shark and the Racer.

Eleanor finished drying her hair. The room went quiet. The clock ticked.

"Do I... do I have to sleep alone?" Estelle asked. Her voice was barely audible.

The bed looked like an ocean. The shadows in the corners looked deep.

Eleanor's face softened into pure love. "Not if you don't want to."

"Can you stay?"

"I would stay for a hundred years."

They climbed into the massive bed. Buster was already snoring in the middle, taking up the most space. Eleanor lay on one side, Estelle on the other, the dog acting as a warm, furry barrier between them.

Eleanor reached over and turned off the lamp. Only a nightlight remained, casting a warm glow.

"Mom?" Estelle whispered into the dark.

"Yes, baby?"

"How did I get lost?"

The air in the room changed. Eleanor's body went rigid. Estelle couldn't see her face, but she could feel the tension radiating off her.

"It was... an accident," Eleanor said. Her voice sounded tight, brittle. "A nanny made a mistake. She looked away for a second."

"Oh," Estelle said. She closed her eyes.

Beside her, Eleanor stared into the darkness, her eyes wide and unblinking. Her hand gripped the silk sheet until her knuckles turned white.

It wasn't an accident. It was a betrayal. It was a kidnapping orchestrated from the inside. And Eleanor knew that the person who did it was still out there.

She began to hum. A low, mournful tune. A lullaby.

Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly...

Estelle's brain latched onto the melody. A memory, deep in her amygdala, unlocked. She remembered this song. She remembered the smell of vanilla.

She fell asleep knowing, for the first time in three years, that she was exactly where she belonged.