Chapter 2

Leo finally reached the towering glass building of Vance Consolidated.

His small chest heaved, his face flushed red from running.

He looked so tiny against the huge, impersonal entrance.

A flicker of hope crossed his face when he saw Eleanor through the glass doors.

She was standing in the lobby, talking to someone.

Julian Croft.

He stood beside her, looking much healthier now, a faint smirk on his lips.

My liver, working inside him.

The sight of Julian made my spirit clench with a cold, useless rage.

Julian noticed Leo first.

He put a hand on Eleanor's arm, his expression shifting to one of feigned concern.

"Eleanor, dear, isn't that little Leo?"

Eleanor turned, her eyes widening slightly when she saw Leo.

Not with warmth. With annoyance.

Leo pushed through the revolving door, nearly falling.

"Mama!" he cried, relief in his voice.

Julian stepped forward, his voice smooth, like oil.

"Leo, my boy, what are you doing here all alone? You look exhausted."

He glanced at Eleanor, a subtle, blaming look.

"Did Marcus send you? Is he not feeling well enough to come himself?"

The insinuation was clear: Marcus was lazy, using his son.

I wanted to rip that voice from his throat.

Leo ignored Julian. His eyes were only for Eleanor.

"Mama, you have to come home! Papa... Papa is still not awake!"

His voice was desperate, pleading.

"He's really sick, Mama. Please!"

He grabbed her hand, his small fingers surprisingly strong.

Julian sighed dramatically, placing a comforting hand on Eleanor's shoulder.

"Eleanor, darling, you see? Marcus is just trying to cause trouble. He's using the boy to get to you."

He shook his head sadly.

"He knows you're worried about my recovery, and he's jealous. He's probably fine, just being difficult."

His words dripped poison, feeding Eleanor's existing suspicions.

She had always believed Julian was a victim, someone she needed to protect.

Eleanor's face hardened. She pulled her hand from Leo's grasp.

"Leo, I told you, your father is fine. He's manipulating you."

Her voice was sharp, cutting.

"And you will not speak ill of Julian. He's been through enough."

She looked down at Leo, her eyes cold.

"Go home. And tell Marcus I'm not playing his games."

*She doesn't know I'm dead. She thinks I'm still in that bed, faking.*

The thought was a fresh stab of pain.

Leo stumbled back as if struck.

"No, Mama! It's true!"

Tears welled in his eyes.

I screamed at her, a silent, raging torrent of words.

*He's telling the truth! I'm dead, you fool! You killed me!*

I tried to touch her, to shake her. My hand passed right through her.

Suddenly, Julian yelped, clutching his arm.

"Ouch! Eleanor, the boy... he hit me!"

He looked at Leo with wide, innocent eyes, feigning pain.

Leo stared, confused. "I didn't!"

But Eleanor wasn't looking at Leo. She was looking at Julian, her face instantly filled with concern and anger.

Anger directed at Leo.

"Leo! How dare you!" she hissed. "Apologize to Julian right now!"

Leo shook his head, tears streaming down his face.

"I didn't touch him, Mama! He's lying! Papa said he's bad!"

"Enough!" Eleanor's voice was a whip crack.

She grabbed Leo's arm tightly, her fingers digging into his skin.

"You will kneel on that sidewalk outside until you admit your lies and apologize to Julian."

She dragged him towards the entrance.

The security guards watched, impassive.

This was Eleanor Vance's building. Her son. Her rules.

She pushed Leo out onto the cold concrete of the sidewalk, under the indifferent gaze of Midtown pedestrians.

"Kneel," she commanded.

Leo, small and terrified, looked up at her, his lip trembling.

He just wanted her to believe him about me.

He slowly sank to his knees on the hard ground.

The November air was chill. The pavement was cold.

I knelt beside him, a phantom father, sharing his pain, his humiliation.

My spirit wept, though no tears fell.

*My son, my brave, suffering son.*

Eleanor stood over him for a moment, her face a mask of fury.

Julian watched from the lobby, a flicker of triumph in his eyes.

"We'll be at the club, Eleanor," he said, his voice loud enough for Leo to hear. "Don't let this spoil our evening."

Eleanor nodded, then turned and walked back into the building, joining Julian.

They left together, laughing about something.

Leo watched them go, his small shoulders slumped.

He tried to get up, to follow, to plead again.

He stumbled, his scraped knee hitting the pavement again.

A fresh wave of pain.

He cried out, a small, broken sound.

Eleanor didn't even glance back.

The revolving doors spun, sealing him out, sealing her in with her deceiver.

A few minutes later, a sleek black car pulled up.

Eleanor's driver, a man named Henderson, got out.

He looked at Leo with a blank expression.

"Ms. Vance said I am to take you home, Master Leo."

He didn't offer a hand. He didn't ask if Leo was okay.

He opened the back door of the car.

Leo, defeated, limped towards it.

Henderson put him in the car, then drove him back to Harlem.

Back to the empty brownstone.

Back to where my body lay, cold and still.

Henderson let Leo into the house, then locked the door from the outside, leaving my son alone.

Trapped.

With me. His dead father.