The next morning, Gail found Arthur unconscious on the bathroom floor. “Mr. Miller! Help!” Andrew ran upstairs and found his son limp and burning with fever. The family doctor, Dr. Sterling, arrived shortly after. After examining Arthur, he pulled Andrew into the hallway.
“Andrew, physically, he’s dehydrated and exhausted. Но that’s not the real problem. Your son has severe childhood depression. He’s literally giving up.” Andrew felt like he’d been punched. “Depression? He’s nine!” “Grief doesn’t have an age limit, Andrew. Gail told me about the woman you fired. She said she was the only one who could reach him.”
“She was a manipulator,” Andrew insisted. Dr. Sterling sighed. “Was she? Or were you just jealous that she was doing a better job of being a parent than you were? Gail says she knew his fears, his dreams, his favorite stories. That’s not manipulation, Andrew. That’s love.”
The doctor’s words cut through Andrew’s denial. “If you don’t do something today, he’s going to end up in a psych ward on a feeding tube. He needs a reason to live, and right now, you aren’t giving him one.” After the doctor left, Andrew’s phone rang. It was Victoria. “I’m coming over to help,” she said. “I’ll stay a few days and show him who’s boss.”
Victoria arrived that evening and marched into Arthur’s room. “Listen here, young man. You’re making your father miserable. It’s time to stop this act and eat your dinner.” Arthur didn’t move. “I’m talking to you!” Victoria snapped. “Elena was a peasant. You need to forget her.”
Arthur sat up, his eyes flashing. “Don’t talk about her! You’re just a fake doll!” “You brat!” Victoria yelled, and in a moment of pure frustration, she slapped him across the face. The sound of the slap brought Andrew running. He saw Arthur clutching his red cheek, sobbing, and Victoria looking panicked.
“Did you just hit my son?” Andrew’s voice was a low growl. “He insulted me! I was just disciplining him!” “Get out,” Andrew said, his voice trembling with rage. “Andrew, wait—” “GET OUT! Now!” He kicked her out into the night and gathered his sobbing son into his arms.
“I’m sorry, Artie. I’m so sorry,” Andrew whispered. “I was so wrong.” He realized then that he had been trying to build a life based on appearances, while his son was starving for substance. He called Gail into the room. “Gail, do you have Elena’s address?”
The next morning, Andrew drove to a run-down apartment complex. He found Elena’s door and knocked. When she opened it, she looked tired. “Andrew? What are you doing here?” “I’m here to apologize. I was a fool. Victoria hit him, Elena. I saw the mark on his face and I realized… I’ve been the one poisoning his life, not you.”
Elena’s eyes filled with tears. “Is he okay?” “He’s fading. He needs you. I’m not asking you to come back as a cleaner. I’m asking you to come back as… whatever you want to be. Just please, help me save my son.” Elena didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her coat. “Let’s go.”
When they arrived at the estate, Arthur was staring out the window. When he saw Elena step out of the car, he let out a cry of pure joy. He ran downstairs—weakly, but with purpose—and threw himself into her arms. “You came back!” “I’m not going anywhere, buddy,” she promised.
Andrew stood back, watching them. He realized that a family isn’t something you can engineer or buy. It’s something you grow with patience and honesty. Over the next few months, the house changed. The photos of Sarah came back out. Andrew started coming home at 5:00 PM. And Elena stayed.
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