Chapter 2: The Unspoken Rift
Inside the warm interior of Arthur’s private study, the air smelled of old leather and mahogany. Leo sat wrapped in a thick wool blanket, holding a warm cup of cocoa with both hands. The initial terror was slowly replaced by heavy physical fatigue.
Arthur stood by the large bay window, staring out at the rain that had begun to drizzle over the city. He looked at the photograph resting on his desk. Eighteen years ago, a bitter pride had torn his family apart. When Eleanor chose to pursue a life away from the corporate empire Arthur had built, he had let her walk away, foolishly believing she would return. Pride had kept him from searching for her, a mistake that now weighed on his chest like lead.
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"Your mother... she spoke of me?" Arthur asked, his voice barely above a whisper, turning to face the boy.
"She kept this picture by her bed," Leo replied, looking down at his shoes. "She said you were strict, but that you had a good heart. She told me if anything ever happened to her, I had to find the man with the silver crest." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, worn leather journal. "She left this for you."
