Elle’s POV
I raised my hand to knock on the old wooden door, but then I stopped.
There was a sound from inside—a sharp one. Like someone had been slapped. Then came a soft cry, muffled, like someone trying not to be heard.
My heart jumped in my chest.
Without even thinking, I reached for the doorknob, ready to open it. But before I could touch it, the door creaked open just a little, and a small boy stepped out.
He was tiny, maybe three years old. His skin was smooth, and his eyes were wide and full of wonder. He looked up at me with big curious eyes, his cheeks round and soft. There was something about his face—his small nose and lips—that made me think of Claire right away.
Could he be her son?
I crouched down a little, about to speak to him gently, when a tall man appeared in the
