“I’m here,” he told her, brushing her hair back with trembling fingers. “You’re not alone. Not ever again.”
He called Diane and asked for food and a first-aid kit.
When Diane came in, she looked like she was carrying guilt in every step. Adrian sat on the edge of the bed and gently cleaned Hannah’s hands. Rope burns.
Scrapes. Small cuts that shouldn’t exist on a child’s palms. Hannah flinched when he dabbed antiseptic.
Adrian’s chest tightened. “Tell me everything,” he said softly. At first, Hannah hesitated, glancing toward the door like she expected someone to burst in.
Then she whispered it all. Vanessa had dismissed staff Adrian trusted. She’d “reorganized” the house.
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