Chapter 26

Ramon POV

I forced my expression to remain neutral, but inside I was cataloging every detail, every casual mention of trauma that this child had been conditioned to accept as normal. Frank Morrison was just the tip of an iceberg of abuse that had shaped their entire existence.

When we arrived home, Ollie immediately requested to be carried from the car—a small luxury he was clearly still adjusting to—but the moment he spotted my mother waiting on the front steps, he asked to be put down so he could run to her.

“Grandma Elena!” he called, waving enthusiastically.

But as Lake lowered him to his feet, Ollie suddenly went very still. His bright expression faded as his sharp eyes took in details that most children would miss—the purple bruising on Lake’s wrists where Frank had grabbed him, the faint marks on his throat from our earlier intimacy.

“Mama,” Ollie said quietly, his voice carrying a flatness that spoke of learned survival responses. “Please