The Heir of Two Names

Chapter Twenty-Two: Shadows Between Us

Penelope's POV

I didn't move.

Lady Violet's hand was warm on my shoulder, steadying me while the flowers trembled in my grip. The balloon bobbed uselessly above my head, cheerful and bright in a room that suddenly felt suffocating.

Everyone was looking at me. Anthony and Kate with quiet pity, Benedict with his jaw clenched, Sophie's hand tight around his arm. Daphne had pressed closer to Simon, her face pale. Eloise was staring wide-eyed, Theo's hand on her knee, trying to ground her. Francesca whispered something to Michael, while Lucy and Gregory exchanged a glance that was too knowing. Even Hyacinth and Gareth, usually irreverent, were unusually silent, their gaze flicking between Colin, Marina, and me.

And Marina—her expression was carved in stone.

"Colin, don't you remember the reason why she is in Lo—" Anthony began, voice low, controlled.

But I cut him off before he could say more. "I—I'm just back in London," I said quickly, forcing a smile. My voice sounded wrong, tinny, foreign even to me. "Visiting. I... I heard about the accident."

The silence that followed was deafening. I felt the weight of their stares. My lie settled into the air, obvious, transparent. But I couldn't tell him the truth. Not like this. Not while he was bruised and broken and confused.

Colin's lips curved into a smile. A real smile. "So that's what I need to do for you to show your face again."

It was supposed to be teasing, but I heard the edge of longing beneath it. My chest tightened.

Marina's eyes flicked to me then, sharp and assessing.

"How are y—" I began, but stopped when his voice cut through, firm and startling.

"Come over and hug me."

The room froze. My heart stuttered.

"Colin..." I whispered, glancing at Marina, then at his family.

"What are you waiting for?" His grin widened, boyish, utterly unaware of the storm he was summoning.

Marina's hand slipped from his. She stood abruptly, turning toward the window, her back rigid.

My jaw fell slightly open. This was absurd. Dangerous. He thought we were still us—the unresolved ache we'd once been.

I looked at Lady Violet. She gave me a small nod. Permission. Reassurance.

Swallowing hard, I walked to him. My steps were loud in my ears, my pulse louder. He was grinning, his eyes lighting with each pace I took.

When I reached his bedside, I handed him the flowers and balloon. He took them clumsily, then caught my hand in his. And before I could resist, he tugged me close.

The scent of him—faint antiseptic layered over the memory of cedar and soap—hit me, and I broke. My head found his shoulder, his bruised cheek pressed against my hair. His arms wound around me, holding tighter than I expected.

"God, I missed you," he whispered, so low only I could hear.

Tears pricked, hot and merciless. I swallowed them back. I couldn't cry. Not here. Not when Marina was a shadow at my side.

I shifted, tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. The hug lingered, stretching into something dangerous.

"Colin," I whispered, voice shaking. "Marina is here."

"I don't care," he murmured into my hair.

I froze, torn between breaking apart and holding him tighter.

Eventually, he eased back, though his hand stayed clasped in mine. He studied me, bruised mouth curving with faint disapproval. "Are you eating? You've lost weight."

I couldn't help it. A breathless laugh escaped me. That was the first thing he'd asked me the day he met Elliot, his son, for the first time.

"Not for the last three days," I admitted softly.

He frowned, still holding my hand, until I gently slipped free and stepped back.

The door opened. A doctor walked in, brisk and efficient, clipboard in hand. The spell broke.

They examined him, explaining to the family that memory lapses were common after head trauma. "We'll schedule an MRI, Xray's and CT scan to rule out anything more serious. For now, short-term memory loss seems most likely. With rest, there's a strong chance things will return."

I stood near the corner, quiet, listening, my eyes drawn back to Colin again and again.

But his eyes... they never left me.

He grinned at me when the doctor wasn't looking, like a boy catching his first secret. Meanwhile, Marina sat at his side again, her hand reclaiming its place on his arm. Her gaze stayed fixed on the doctor, but the tension radiating off her was palpable.

When the doctor left, I gathered myself. My heart was in pieces, but I had to protect what was left.

"Time for me to go," I said lightly, forcing brightness I didn't feel. "I just stopped by for a quick visit."

"Stay," Colin said immediately.

I shook my head. "No, this is your time—with your family. I don't want to intrude."

Marina said nothing, simply brushed her fingers through his curls as though to anchor herself to him.

"I told you to stay" Colin demanded.

"I can't," I repeated, my throat tight. "There's someone waiting for me in... in my estate."

His head tilted, confusion flashing. "Who?"

"Colin," Marina warned, sharp this time.

I didn't answer at first. I hugged Daphne, then Francesca, then Eloise. I kissed Lady Violet's cheek, felt her squeeze my hand, her silent strength anchoring me.

But Colin's eyes burned into me. "Tell me who is waiting for you," he pressed, voice stubborn, boyish in its insistence.

I stopped. Turned back to him.

"Elliot," I said finally.

The name tasted heavy, weighted with everything unsaid.

'The room went silent. Every sibling's breath seemed to hold at once.

"Elliot?" he repeated. His brow furrowed. "Your... boyfriend?" His mouth twisted with irritation.

Benedict coughed into his fist, trying to mask the smile. Eloise actually laughed under her breath, and Simon shook his head. It was absurd. He was jealous—at his own son.

Marina's lips pressed tighter together.

And me—I broke inside. He didn't remember. Not Elliot. Not our boy.

I managed a smile, brittle but present. "Rest well, Colin."

And then I turned. I walked out before the tears finally fell.