The disdain was palpable, almost a physical thing in the air, making Eltham want nothing more than to turn on his heel and leave. But then, she spoke, her voice fragile, "Sir, I'm lost. Can you please help me replace my way back to my room?" Her voice cracked with emotion, and it was then that Eltham really looked at her. She bore a striking resemblance to Brittany Lynette.

The same starry eyes, brimming with tears.

A rare flicker of compassion lit within Eltham as he crouched down to her level. "What's your name?"

"Twila."

"What's wrong?"

"I have a cold. And a fever." Twila looked up at Eltham with timid eyes. She hadn't ever encountered such a handsome man. She thought to herself that if he were her dad, her mom wouldn't have to suffer, and neither would she have to endure the beatings. Eltham extended his hand, "Come on, I'll take you back."

Twila's heart leaped with joy, "Really, sir?"

"Of course."

Holding onto Eltham's hand, she allowed him to guide her back to the room.

Hestia had gone to make her soup.

Climbing into bed by herself, Twila turned to Eltham, "Thank you, sir."

"Just rest up," Eltham said with a soft smile before he left.

Eltham mused to himself. If he and Brittany had a child as adorable as Twila, he wouldn't mind showering her with affection, at least providing some semblance of fatherly love.

Unaware of who he really was, Twila waited until Hestia returned, opening up a pot of chicken noodle soup and ladling out a small bowl for her, "Here, eat up, sweetie."

Holding the bowl, Twila asked, "Aren't you having some, mommy?"

With two large pots full, she couldn't possibly finish it all by herself.

"I already ate at the diner," Hestia replied, shaking her head. She had made extra soup, thinking if Nathan Jarvis dropped by, she'd offer him some. Regardless of Nathan's motives for bringing her to Craneville, she was grateful. He had rescued her from a dire situation.

Twila recounted her afternoon encounter, her voice laced with excitement, "Mommy, he was so handsome. Wouldn't it be great if he were my dad?" Hestia's expression stiffened, "Just focus on your soup."

Her dad was no good man.

Seeing her mom upset, Twila immediately went quiet.

...

On their way back, Brittany initiated conversation with Eltham.

"My dad's getting better, but the doctors say it'll be a while before he can leave the hospital. I might not go out, but I want to talk to him every day."

"I understand," Eltham replied, "You can talk, but don't think about running away."

He paused, "If you're entertaining such thoughts, I'd advise you to discard them right away."

He still had leverage over Isaac Salter.

Brittany knew he had contingencies. Rather than plotting an escape, she decided to stay. She was curious to see what Eltham had up his sleeve. "Alright."

Eltham was pleased with her response, his gaze lifting slightly, "If only you could always be this compliant."

Brittany scoffed, "Do you prefer a puppet?"

"If it means you'd stay by my side, I wouldn't mind if you were a rose with thorns."

A puppet was dull.

He wished for Brittany to willingly stay by his side.

Frowning, Brittany asked, "Have you ever cared for someone before?"

Eltham's way of affection was peculiar.

After a moment, he finally said, "Not really, but I once had a cat."

"A cat?"

Was pet-keeping his strange way of showing affection?

"Just a disobedient one," he replied coldly. "It didn't listen, so I kicked it out."

"So, if I don't listen, will you kick me out too?"

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