Chapter 3 SPLASH

The city was already buzzing by the time I opened my eyes. A horn blared in the distance, someone cursed on the sidewalk, and the smell of something greasy wafted in from a street vendor below. Yep. Manhattan.

I lay still for a moment, watching the morning light slide through the half-closed blinds. It felt weird waking up here again. It felt like I'd slipped back into a version of myself I'd tried hard to outgrow.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Elena?" Enid's voice floated in.

"Yeah. I'm up."

She pushed the door open, holding two steaming mugs. "Coffee?"

"You're a lifesaver."

I sat up as she crossed the room, handed me a cup, and then plopped down on the edge of the bed with a sleepy smile.

"Elvis is in the kitchen. Faye made him pancakes. The good kind with chocolate chips."

"Did he eat?"

"Two whole pancakes. Then tried to steal mine."

I smiled. "That's my boy."

We sat in silence for a moment, sipping coffee like we used to in college when the world felt like it could wait.

"I was thinking..." I said, hesitating.

"Oh boy."

"No, hear me out." I turned to face her. "I want to register Elvis in a nearby school. I don't know how long I'll be in the city, and he needs some routine."

Enid raised an eyebrow. "That's actually a great idea."

"I knew you'd say that."

"Have you looked into schools?"

"Not yet. I was hoping you and Faye could help."

She grinned. "We're officially aunties now. Say less."

"Thanks, Enid."

We clinked our mugs together and sat there a moment longer before I got up, determined to get the day moving.

By noon, we'd narrowed it down to two schools. One was just too far, especially since I'd be spending most of my days at Harper Corp. But the other school, Spruce Hill Elementary was just a few blocks away from their Midtown office building.

"It's perfect," Faye said as we all stared at her laptop screen. "Small class sizes, good reviews, and they have a music program. You said he likes piano, right?"

"He does," I said quietly. "He used to fall asleep listening to Chopin."

"Little old man," Enid said, peeking over Faye's shoulder.

I smiled. "Yeah. He's got an old soul."

"I like him already," she added. "Even if he did call my cat a fur monster."

"In his defense," Faye said, sipping her juice, "Miso is kind of scary-looking."

"She's misunderstood," Enid muttered.

That afternoon, after dropping off some enrollment forms at Spruce Hill and getting a tour of the place, we all stopped for lunch at a cozy diner . Elvis had been quiet most of the morning, clinging a little closer to me than usual. But he seemed to like the school. He didn't say it outright, but I saw the way his eyes lingered on the art hung in the hallway and how he peeked into one of the classrooms with curiosity.

"Do you like it?" I asked him while he poked at his grilled cheese.

He nodded once, then took a small bite. "It smells like crayons."

"Good or bad?"

"Good," he said, voice small.

Faye smiled across the table. "That's a win."

"Are you nervous?" I asked him gently.

He shrugged. "A little. But you'll come back for me, right?"

"Always."

He leaned his head against my arm and didn't say anything else. I held him close.

Later that night, after Elvis was in bed, I sat with Faye in the living room while Enid washed dishes in the background, humming to herself.

Faye flipped through her notebook, filled with sticky notes and highlighter marks. "So... Harper Corp," she began.

"Right."

"You're meeting Dylan Harper himself?"

"Supposedly."

She looked up. "That's a big deal, Elena."

"I know. He's kind of... legendary."

"More than that," she said. "The company's been expanding aggressively. You land this deal, and it's not just about money girl, it's about visibility. Credibility."

I exhaled slowly. "No pressure then."

Faye closed the notebook and leaned forward. "But you're not going tomorrow?"

"No. I just got back yesterday. I need to breathe for one second."

"Smart."

I stared at the city lights outside the window, fingers curled around my mug.

"What if it all goes south?" I asked softly.

"It won't."

"But if it does?"

"Then we regroup. We move. We adapt. Like always."

I smiled. "What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn."

We both laughed, but beneath it, my stomach twisted. There was more than just business at stake. I didn't say it, but Faye knew. She always did.

The next morning, we stood outside Spruce Hill's gates.

"Elvis," I said, crouching to his level. "It's just a half day today. I'll be right here when school ends, okay?"

He gave a tiny nod, his eyes scanning the playground. Kids ran around shouting and laughing, and he clutched his backpack tighter.

"You've got this," I whispered, kissing his cheek.

Faye waved. "You'll do great, buddy."

Enid ruffled his hair. "No green candy when you get back unless you make a new friend."

Elvis cracked a tiny smile. "What if I only make one?"

"That still counts."

He walked through the gates, glancing back once. I waved. Then he disappeared inside.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"He'll be okay," Faye said beside me.

"I know. He's stronger than I give him credit for."

"And so are you."

We walked toward the corner coffee shop after that, just me and Faye. Enid had gone to work after we dropped Elvis at school. The air was cool, the kind of brisk that makes you tuck your hands into your coat pockets. Autumn was creeping in.

"I checked the Harper Corp itinerary," she said as we sat by the window. "They're planning a preliminary board meeting on Thursday. That's when you'll present."

"Thursday."

"You'll kill it."

I stared down at my coffee, fingers tight around the cup. "You think he'll be there?"

She didn't need me to say who.

Faye hesitated. "If he is... just stay calm. Stay professional."

"I'm not worried about me."

"You're worried about Elvis."

I nodded.

She leaned in. "No one knows. You've changed. He's just a child. People don't put things together unless you give them reason to."

"I still see his face sometimes," I said quietly. "In Elvis. Especially when he frowns."

Faye reached across the table and touched my hand. "Whatever happens, we handle it together. Okay?"

"Okay."

That night, I checked on Elvis three times before finally crawling into bed. The apartment was quiet, lights low. I pulled my blanket tighter and stared at the ceiling.

I wasn't sure how long I was going to be in Manhattan. Could be weeks. Could be months. But the past wasn't something you could outrun forever. And I was starting to feel its footsteps again.

But I had Elvis now.

I had something to prove.

And I was going to prove it.