Rebirth of the Broken Luna A Second Chance at Luna's Heart novel Chapter 385

Chapter 385

XENOIS

I looked at Lumina over Ollie’s head. She nodded slightly, understand that sometimes a child needed to do something, anything, to feel

less helpless.

“Okay,” I said. “You can leave them a message. But Ollie, I need you to understand-they might not call back right away. They might not even get the message for a while. You can’t let yourself expect-

“I know,” Ollie interrupted, already pulling out his phone-the one we given him for emergencies and family calls. “I just need to try.”

He moved to a quieter corner of the foyer and dialed his grandmother number with shaking hands. I watched him wait through the rings, watched his face fall when it inevitably went to voicemail, watched him take a deep breath and try to sound brave.

“Hi, Grandma. It’s Ollie. I’m at your house right now with Daddy and Mom and my brothers. We came to visit but you’re not here. Nobody’s here.” His voice cracked. “I miss you so much. I miss your butterscotch cookies and playing in the fun house and telling you about school. I have so many things to tell you about Riley and Lake-they’re so cool, Grandma, and I know you’d love them if you met them. Please come home. Please call me. I promise I’ll be better about calling you first. I promise I won’t forget about you. Just… please come back. I love you.”

He ended the call and stood there for a moment, phone clutched in his hand, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Then he turned and ran-out of the foyer, up the grand staircase, disappearing into the upper levels of the house.

“Ollie!” Lumina called, starting after him.

“Let me,” I said, catching her arm. “He needs space. And honestly, so do I.”

She studied my face for a long moment, then nodded. “I’ll stay down here with Riley and Lake. Make sure they’re okay. You go check on

Ollie.”

I found my son in what had been his special room-the one my mother had decorated just for him, filled with toys and books and everything a young boy could want. He’d locked the door, but that didn’t matter. I had keys to every room in this house.

“Ollie?” I called softly, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

He was curled up on the window seat, face pressed against the glass, staring out at the grounds where he’d played countless times.

‘I don’t understand, Daddy,” he said without looking at me. “I thought they loved me.”

“They do love you,” I said, moving to sit beside him. “That hasn’t changed.”

“Then why did they leave? Why didn’t they even say goodbye?” He finly turned to look at me, and the betrayal in his eyes cut straight through me. “Don’t adults tell kids when they’re leaving? Don’t grandpares say goodbye to their grandchildren? That’s what you always say— that we have to communicate, that we have to tell people when we’re ups or need space. So why didn’t they tell me?”

I had no answer. Because he was right. Everything I’d taught him abo communication and honesty and family loyalty-my parents had

violated all of it.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m going to find out. And Ollie? Whaver’s going on with your grandparents, whatever reason they had for

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leaving-it doesn’t change how much they love you. Look around this room Look at all the care they put into making this space special for you. People who don’t care don’t do that.”

“But people who care don’t leave without saying goodbye either, Ollie said quietly. “Do they?”

I pulled him close, wishing I had better answers, wishing I could fix is the way I fixed scraped knees and bad dreams and everyday childhood problems.

But this wasn’t something I could kiss better or solve with a hug. This was complicated and messy and involved adult choices that I didn’t

fully understand myself.

“Come on,” I said finally. “Let’s go home. We can come back when we how more.”

“I want to stay,’ Ollie protested. “What if they come back and I’m not here?”

“Then we’ll come back, I promised. “As many times as you need. But right now, we need to go home. Okay?”

He nodded reluctantly, letting me lead him back downstairs where Lumina waited with Riley and Lake. Both boys looked worried, clearly

picking up on Ollie’s distress.

“We’re leaving,” I announced. “Thorne, Marcus-lock everything back up. I’ll deal with the lawyers tomorrow.”

“Actually,” Thorne said, his phone still pressed to his ear, “I’ve got someone on the line you need to talk to. Theodore Harrison-your

parents’ butler? The one who raised you and Xena? He’s willing to come by your house tonight. Says he has information about your parents.”

Theodore. God, I hadn’t thought about him in years. He’d been more than just staff-he’d been a constant presence in my childhood,

someone who’d comforted me after nightmares and taught me proper table manners and been there for every important moment.

If anyone would know what was going on with my parents, it would be him.

“Tell him to come at eight,” I said. “We’ll be home by then.”

The drive back was silent except for Ollie’s occasional sniffles from the backseat. Riley and Lake sat on either side of him, their hands linked with his in silent support. Through the rearview mirror, I watched my oldest son stare out the window, his expression devastated.

I’d failed him. Somehow, despite all my efforts to create a better family, to break cycles of hurt and build something healthier, I’d still failed to protect my son from the kind of abandonment that left scars.

Because my parents’ leaving wasn’t just about them. It was a rejection of everything we were trying to build, everything we’d become.

And Ollie felt that rejection in his bones.

By the time we got home, Ollie had gone quiet-not calm, but shut down. He went straight to his room and locked the door without a word

to anyone.

I wanted to follow him, to fix this somehow, but Lumina caught my am.

“Give him time,” she said softly. “Let him process. We’ll check on him a bit.”

I nodded, though everything in me rebelled against leaving my hurting child alone.

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Chapter 385

Theodore arrived exactly at eight, looking older than I remembered by still carrying himself with the same quiet dignity that had defined him throughout my childhood.

“Alpha Xenois,” he said formally, bowing slightly. “Luna Lumina. Thank you for seeing me.”

Thank you for coming,” I said, gesturing him into my office. “Please, t. Tell me what you know about my parents.”

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