I stayed where I was for a long moment, my back pressed against the door. My hands were shaking.
I hated that. I hated that after all this time, after everything I had built and protected. Rome could still do this to me.
"This can't happen.." I whispered again, as if saying it louder would somehow make it true.
The house answered me with silence.
I straightened slowly, my senses sharpening. A mother learned to recognize silence that was normal and silence that wasn't. This one felt wrong.
"Paris?" I called softly, already knowing.
No answer.
My chest tightened.
I pushed myself away from the door and walked into the living room, my steps careful. The lights were dim, the curtains half-drawn. I passed the bedroom, hoping Paris had simply gone back to sleep—but Cairo and Egypt were the only ones there, still asleep, curled into each other.
Paris wasn't there.
My pulse spiked.
I turned toward the hallway. "Paris," I called again, a little sharper now. "Baby?"
A pause.
