*Elizabeth's POV*
I couldn't breathe.
The kitchen counter was the only solid thing in a world that had just tilted violently sideways. My hands gripped the edge so hard my fingers ached, but I couldn't let go. If I let go, I would fall.
*Blackwood.*
The name echoed in my head like a bell, loud and relentless.
*James Blackwood.*
Twenty-five years. Twenty-five years since I'd heard that name. Twenty-five years since I'd spoken it out loud. Twenty-five years since I'd run from it, taking my baby and never looking back.
And now it was here. In my kitchen. In my home.
The memories came flooding back, vivid and painful, crashing over me like waves.
*James at our kitchen table, coffee in hand, laughing at something I'd said.*
*James holding baby Helen for the first time, tears streaming
