Finally, Daniel called.
“I found some leads,” he said. “Locals say the boy’s name is Noah. He’s often seen near the cemetery or rummaging through dumpsters. Lives with his mother—Clara—in an abandoned warehouse on the east side. She keeps to herself. They’re both hiding, it seems.”
“Find them. Today,” Richard ordered.
That evening, Daniel led Richard to the derelict building. Inside, among rubble and mildew, Richard saw a flicker of candlelight. There in the corner sat Clara, thin, exhausted, and protective. Beside her stood Noah, ready to flee.
“I’m not here to harm you,” Richard said gently. “I saw you at the cemetery. My name is Richard Levinson. That was my son’s grave.”
Clara looked down. Her body was tense, ready to shield Noah.
“We didn’t mean anything wrong,” she said quietly. “Please leave us alone.”
“I just need to understand,” Richard replied. “Why was your son visiting Leo’s grave?”
A silence followed.
Then, Noah looked up and asked softly, “Are you the man who brings the lilies?”
Richard blinked. “Yes… Leo loved lilies. How do you know that?”
Clara’s voice trembled. “Because… Leo was Noah’s father. He never knew. I was pregnant when he died.”
Richard froze. His mind spiraled.
“He’s… my grandson?” he whispered.
Clara nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “I didn’t know how to tell you. After Leo’s accident… I was afraid. Afraid you wouldn’t believe me. That you’d think I wanted something from you, or that you’d take Noah away.”
Richard looked closely at the boy—his eyes, his features, the way he furrowed his brow. It was Leo. In every expression, in every line of his face.
He knelt down.
“I missed so much,” he said. “But now I want to help. Please let me be part of Noah’s life.”
Clara hesitated. She looked at her son, who stared silently at the man who claimed to be his grandfather. Then she looked at the cracked ceiling above them, at the damp floor beneath her feet.
“What do you want from us in return?” she asked cautiously.
“Nothing,” Richard said. “Only that you let me be part of Noah’s life. I’m his grandfather. I just want to give him what I couldn’t give Leo.”
She studied his face, searching for signs of deceit. But all she saw was weariness—and something else: genuine remorse.
“Okay,” she whispered. “But don’t leave him. Please. He’s already been through too much.”
“I won’t,” Richard said. “I promise.”
To avoid overwhelming Clara and Noah, Richard arranged for them to stay in a modest apartment he owned in a quiet part of the city. It wasn’t lavish, but it was warm, safe, and stocked with food and fresh linens.
When Clara and Noah stepped inside, they froze. The clean furniture, soft blankets, and full fridge were overwhelming.
Noah reached out and touched the arm of the sofa, then looked at his mother in disbelief. “Is this… ours?”
“For as long as you need,” Richard replied, standing back. “There’s a school nearby too.”
