Chapter 45: Welcome Home Mommy

At the Foster Mansion, Isobel had cried herself to sleep.

The tears she thought had run dry continued to betray her long after her eyes had closed. Even now, her pillow remained damp beneath her cheeks.

Morning arrived quietly. Golden sunlight slipped through the curtains, painting soft patterns across the room.

For a brief moment, Isobel forgot where she was.

Then reality crashed back. Kristoff’s words. His cold eyes. His accusation.

Her chest tightened.

She sat up abruptly and pressed a hand against her heart. The ache was still there. It hadn’t disappeared overnight.

Perhaps it never would.

With a long breath, she forced herself out of bed and headed toward the bathroom.

The marble floor felt cool beneath her feet. As warm water splashed against her face, she stared at her reflection.

This bathroom alone was larger than the dormitory room she once occupied in college.

Luxury had become normal to her now. Her own bedroom. A private bathroom. A walk-in closet.

She lived with that kind of comfort she had never imagined possessing when she was younger.

Her thoughts drifted to Saint Marianne’s Orphanage.

The children there still shared a communal bathroom.

Six cubicles. Three for bathing. Three toilets.

Dozens of children lining up every morning.

Compared to them, she was fortunate. Very fortunate.

A bitter smile touched her lips. The only price she had paid was her innocence.

Her gaze lowered.

Lately, she had been thinking about the orphanage more often. Perhaps because she missed the only place that had ever truly felt like home.

I should visit soon, she thought.

The children are probably wondering where I’ve been.

After freshening up, she crossed the hall to the nursery. The twins greeted her with excited kicks and happy coos.

The sight instantly softened something inside her.

Unlike adults, babies never judged.

They never lied. never pretended. They simply loved.

She fed them, changed them, and spent nearly an hour showering them with kisses before carrying them downstairs.

The dining room was unusually quiet.

Only Albert stood nearby supervising the servants.

"Uncle Albert," Isobel asked. "Have Morgan and Katherine already eaten?"

Albert nodded respectfully.

"Master Morgan left early this morning, Miss Isobel."

"And Katherine?"

A faint smile crossed the old butler’s face.

"I suspect Miss Katherine is still asleep."

Isobel couldn’t help but smile. That sounded exactly like Katherine.

After breakfast, she returned to the nursery.

The rest of the morning passed peacefully.

She played with the twins, sang nursery rhymes, and watched them attempt to grab each other’s tiny fingers.

When they finally drifted off to sleep, she settled into a chair and opened her laptop.

The familiar glow of the screen greeted her.

Work had always been her escape.

Whenever life became too complicated, she buried herself in projects.

Her fingers began flying across the keyboard.

The application she was currently developing was designed for nannies and parents—a smart AI assistant that could track feedings, diaper changes, sleep schedules, developmental milestones, and even organize photos automatically.

The project was already halfway complete.

If everything went according to plan, she could finish it within three days.

Then she would begin working on her second project.

Baby Buddy.

An AI companion designed to interact with children, tell stories, answer questions, and support early learning.

The thought made her smile.

Maybe one day she could donate both applications to orphanages around the country.

Maybe children like her younger self would benefit from them.

She became so absorbed in coding that she failed to notice time passing.

Until voices suddenly erupted downstairs. Then came hurried footsteps.

The sound of multiple people moving at once.

Frowning, Isobel rose from her seat and stepped into the hallway.

The commotion was coming from the living room.

Curiosity pulled her toward the staircase. The moment she looked down, she froze.

Morgan had returned. And he wasn’t alone.

A woman lay unconscious on a hospital gurney. An IV line was attached to her hand. Several medical staff surrounded her.

Even from a distance, Isobel could tell she was beautiful.

Strikingly beautiful. Even if her skin was pale and her eyes remained closed.

Her expression was fragile and exhausted. Yet there was something elegant about her. Something that immediately drew attention.

A strange feeling settled in Isobel’s chest.

Because she already knew who this woman was.

Kristine.

The woman Morgan had loved for years.

The woman who was the madam of Foster Mansion.

...

The mansion’s elevator doors opened.

The medical staff carefully wheeled the gurney inside.

A tense silence followed as they disappeared toward the third floor.

Toward the master bedroom. Toward Morgan. Toward the place she belonged.

For several moments, Isobel stood motionless.

Then she turned around and hurried back to the nursery.

The twins were beginning to stir from their nap.

"Kit... Kat..." she called softly.

The babies immediately opened their eyes.

The moment they saw her, they kicked their little legs excitedly and released a string of cheerful coos.

A genuine smile spread across Isobel’s face.

She lifted Kat into her arms.

"Come on," she whispered. "Ella, please carry Kit."

Her gaze drifted toward the door.

Toward the woman who had just returned.

The children’s mother.

And for the first time since arriving at the Foster Mansion, Isobel wondered whether her place here was finally coming to an end.

Still without hesitation and in a gentle voice, she said to the babies...

"Let’s go welcome Mommy home."

...

The medical staff had already arranged the gurney beside the king size bed.

The master bedroom was unusually quiet.

Machines hummed softly in the background while sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the room in a warm glow.

The door remained slightly open.

Standing outside, Isobel gently adjusted the baby in her arms before calling out.

"Morgan?"

Her voice drifted into the room like a soft melody.

"We brought the babies to welcome their Mommy home. May we come in?"

Morgan, who had not taken his eyes off Kristine since she arrived, turned toward the doorway.

For a moment, his throat tightened. The sight of the twins stirred emotions he could barely contain.

"Sure," he replied quietly.

His voice sounded rough. As though he hadn’t slept the night before. Or perhaps because hope and fear had been fighting inside him for too long.

Isobel and Ella entered the room.

The moment they approached the bed, Morgan stepped forward.

Without hesitation, he reached for his son.

"Come here, Baby Kit."