"You want me to fake being sick?" Dennis asked, his eyes lighting up. "I can do that. Seriously, I can pretend."

Amelia hesitated, her voice soft. "It's not about pretending. I mean actually being sick..."

Dennis frowned in confusion and tugged gently at her sleeve. "Auntie, what does that even mean? I don't get it."

She looked down at him, torn. Dennis was almost unfairly cute, with delicate features and a face that always seemed to beg for affection. Even when he was being stubborn or acting spoiled, he was impossible to get mad at. People just wanted to take care of him.

He was Andrew Lane's son, after all. He'd been the family's little prince since the day he was born. No real hardships, barely even a cold, and the worst thing he'd ever faced was a lecture from someone at home.

Those big, clear eyes looked up at her, so trusting. How could anyone say no to that?

After a moment, Amelia let out a breath and slipped her hand from her pocket, releasing the bottle of pills she'd been holding. "Forget it," she said gently. "I made it up. There's nothing you need to worry about."

Dennis's brows scrunched together. He lunged forward and hugged her tight, lower lip jutting out in a pout. "I don't believe you. You never lie to me. That's the real lie."

Amelia pressed her lips together and didn't answer.

He clung to her, voice soft and pleading. "Auntie, please just tell me. I can help. I want to help. Please... I'm begging you..."

Her heart wavered. She couldn't take it when he begged like this. She knelt down and took his small shoulders in her hands. "Dennis, be honest. You really want to bring your mom back?"

"I've told you a million times!" Dennis burst out, his voice rising. "Auntie, I really, really, really, really... really want my mom. I want her to come home."

He looked up at her, eyes wide and shining, so much like Isabella Austin's. “Auntie, don't you miss my mom too?"

That was it. Amelia's resolve broke.

She closed her eyes, let out a shaky sigh, and pulled Dennis close. "Of course I do, sweetheart. I want her back too."

Dennis squirmed in her arms. "Then tell me what to do."

Amelia reached into her pocket and took out the bottle, holding it out so he could see. "Alright. I'll tell you..."

About half an hour later, Amelia left Dennis's room carrying his dinner tray. She pulled the door shut behind her as quietly as she could.

"Ms. Gomez, let me take that."

The voice came from behind and made her jump, nearly sending the tray clattering to the floor.

She turned to see a maid watching her, eyes on the dishes.

Amelia paused, then handed the tray over with a steady hand. “Take it downstairs, please."

The maid nodded and walked off.

Amelia moved to the hallway railing and glanced down. Kevin Lane was in the tearoom, focused on his chess game completely unaware of everything that had just happened upstairs.

A quiet voice spoke up beside her. "Is it done?"

Ethan Lane was suddenly there, having come up the stairs.

Amelia gave a small nod, her voice barely above a whisper. "He took it. In about ten minutes, I'll go get Grandpa."

Her face showed a sadness she couldn't hide, worry flickering in her eyes.

Ethan studied her, reading her mood immediately. "You're doing all of this for Isabella," he said quietly "Dennis is going to be fine you don't have to feel guilty."

Amelia's hand tightened on the

banister for a second. She let out

banister

deep breath. I know you're right but

I just can't stop worrying. I watched Dennis swallow that pill..."

Ethan rested his hand on her shoulder, gentle and reassuring. "This'll all be over soon."