The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 57

The news Harriet brought felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over Annelise's raging fury, forcing her into an instant, chilling calm.

The next afternoon, a black van pulled quietly into the Lehman Estate.

The doors opened, and Clarissa stepped out, holding a child.

She was dressed in an off-white cashmere coat, her long hair pinned gently back, projecting a perfectly measured aura of fatigue and resilience.

The boy in her arms looked a little over two years old. Dressed in a navy-blue hooded trench coat that highlighted his porcelain skin,

he had large, round eyes that looked exactly like Hackett's. Right now, he was staring at the grand, castle-like mansion with a mix of curiosity and timidity.

Lizzie practically sprinted out of the living room.

The second her eyes locked onto the boy, she froze. Tears surged forth without warning.

"He looks... he looks just like him..." Her lips trembled. She reached out, wanting to touch the boy, but held back as if terrified of startling an illusion.

"He looks just like Elias... my Elias..."

She kept repeating her eldest son's name, her voice heavy with the ecstatic agony of regaining something precious.

Annelise stood by the living room's floor-to-ceiling windows, separated by the cold glass, impassively watching this profoundly touching reunion unfold in the courtyard.

Looked like Elias?

What a joke.

Even a blind man could see that the boy’s straight nose and thin lips were carved directly from Hackett's mold.

Clarissa carried the boy over to Lizzie, her own eyes turning red.

She crouched down so the boy was eye-level with Lizzie, her voice dripping with tenderness.

"Mrs. Lehman, I'm sorry. I've been keeping this from you."

She launched into the flawless, rehearsed story she had prepared a million times.

"This is Manuel. He's... before Elias left, we went to the hospital and saved our... seed."

She choked on a sob right on cue, tears rolling down her cheeks like broken pearls.

The water was warm, but her heart was colder than an arctic glacier.

That evening, Hackett came home.

The moment he entered the living room, he saw Manuel sitting on the rug playing with building blocks alongside Lizzie.

His footsteps paused for just a fraction of a second.

But his facial control was flawless. A perfectly measured, gentle smile quickly surfaced, as if he had just learned about the new addition to the family.

"Mother, I'm home."

He walked over, shrugged off his suit jacket, and sat casually on the sofa, playing the role of a caring, appropriate "uncle."

"This must be Manuel. He looks like a bright kid."

He spoke warmly and reached out to pat Manuel's head.

However, the second his hand touched the boy, the toddler—who had been somewhat shy in this strange new environment—suddenly dropped his blocks, turned, and reached his chubby little hands out toward Hackett.