Chapter 21: Convincing Helena
"Come here," he said softly, patting the cushion beside him.
Helena hesitated, her teeth catching her lower lip. "Vincent, I... I don’t think—"
"Helena." His voice carried gentle command, the kind that made her pulse quicken despite her exhaustion. "Come here. Properly."
She set the files on his desk with trembling hands, then moved toward him with slow, uncertain steps. The scent of her stress-worn perfume mixed with something uniquely her—vanilla and tired determination. She perched on the edge of the sofa like a bird ready to flee.
"Not like that," Vincent murmured, his hand finding her wrist with surprising gentleness. "Come here."
She looked at him with those wounded doe eyes, then slowly shifted closer until she was sitting beside him, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her body, could see the way her chest rose and fell with careful, controlled breaths.
Vincent turned to face her, one arm draping naturally along the back of the sofa, his fingers just barely brushing her shoulder. "Tell me what you’re thinking."
"I keep..." Her voice broke, and she had to start again. "I keep replaying it. The look in his eyes when he almost... when he..." She pressed her hands to her face, shoulders shaking. "God, Vincent, what if that’s what he really thinks of me? What if I’m just some desperate—"
"Stop." Vincent’s hand found her chin, gently but firmly tilting her face up to meet his eyes. Her skin was soft and warm, slightly damp with unshed tears. "Don’t you dare finish that sentence."
The contact sent a visible shiver through her. "But what if—"
"You are one of the strongest, most devoted mothers I’ve ever known," he said, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with unconscious tenderness. "Liam was sick, Helena. Poisoned. Those weren’t his words speaking—that was chemicals and confusion."
Fresh tears spilled over, tracking warm paths down her cheeks that his thumb followed and wiped away. "I failed him, Vincent. I should have seen the signs, should have known something was wrong. What kind of mother doesn’t notice when her child is—"