Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 32: Chapter 32

Antonio shut the heavy door behind him.
The study was dim, lit only by the green banker’s lamp and the golden embers of the fireplace. On the table lay a folder — thick, worn, edges marked by time and silence. He’d gotten the file within twenty-four hours. He always did.
William was already there, sitting in the high-backed chair by the hearth, cane resting across his knees.
Antonio spoke without preamble.
“She lied.”
William raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
“Everything,” Antonio said, flipping the file open. “Her name is Mara Celeste. Changed it five times over the last fifteen years. Credit lines opened and closed. Multiple addresses. No employment history since Dahlia was born. Cash transactions. Shadow movements.”
William exhaled slowly. “Running.”
“Or hiding.”
Antonio tapped the final page.
“She dropped Dahlia off at that hospital the same week she was admitted to a private care facility under an alias. Mental exhaustion. Trauma. There’s no birth certificate for Dahlia — just a signed hospital form and a falsified name.”
William’s eyes narrowed. “She was protecting something.”
Antonio nodded grimly. “Someone.”
He pulled out a photograph. A boy — no older than ten. Bright hazel eyes. Wild curls. Standing barefoot beside a goat in the middle of a muddy backyard. The goat was calm. Docile. Smiling, even.
“Derek,” Antonio said. “Her son. Dahlia’s half-brother.”
William sat forward.
“The boy can communicate with animals. Tames them. Leads them. They obey. There’s footage — I found video from a shelter where he calmed a rabid dog with one touch. The mother vanished from the grid again shortly after that.”
William whispered, “She was hiding him. And protecting him.”
Antonio’s voice turned cold.
“He’s sick. Some kind of wasting illness — fever cycles, seizures. No medical records. No care. She’s been treating him with herbs, off-grid remedies, trying to stay off radar.”
William’s brow furrowed. “And now she comes to Dahlia.”
“To heal him,” Antonio finished.
He slammed the file shut, furious.
“She didn’t come for family. She came for a cure.”
The Kitchen – The Quiet Storm Gathers
Later that night, the family gathered in the kitchen. No lights, just lanterns and low voices.
Dahlia stood by the sink, fists clenched at her sides.
“Why didn’t she just tell me?”
“Because she didn’t think you’d say yes,” Eliot said. “She came to manipulate. Not to ask.”
“She has a ten-year-old son,” Dahlia whispered, her voice catching. “My brother.”
“She abandoned you,” Christian reminded gently.
“But she didn’t abandon him,” Amy added softly. “She ran because of what happened. Because both of her kids were… different.”
Theo looked up from the file. “There’s more. That fever illness? It’s progressing. Fast. She tried taking him to a healer — fake one. Paid a fortune. Nearly cost them both everything.”
Markus stood in the corner, arms folded, watching Dahlia closely.
“She’s desperate,” he said. “But she’s also broken. That makes her dangerous — not in a villain kind of way. In a reckless kind of way.”
Dahlia turned toward Antonio. “Where are they?”
“In a safehouse near Pine Hollow,” Antonio said. “Secluded. Off-grid. She set it up six years ago. No visitors. No records.”
Dahlia was quiet for a long moment. Then she looked at Amy, then Markus. “I have to go.”
“You’re not going alone,” Antonio said immediately.
“She’s my mother,” Dahlia said.
Antonio stepped forward, firm. “She gave up that title when she left you to die.”
Dahlia didn’t flinch. “Maybe. But Derek didn’t. He never had a choice. And if I can help him… I will.”
Markus looked at her. “We go with you. No arguments.”
Amy moved beside her. “And I pack the first aid kit. Again.”
Eliot rolled his eyes. “And I sharpen the blades. This is getting old.”
Christian grinned faintly. “You love it.”
William stood last, his voice calm but serious.
“Then you leave at dawn. And you go not as victims. Not as saviors. But as roots. Strong. Grounded. Ready.”