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Chapter 13:
With Lily gone, Sofia's place at Blackwood Manor felt like a forgotten afterthought. Her purpose had always been clear—she was here for Lily. Without the little girl's bright smile and infectious laughter to guide her every move, Sofia now felt lost in the cavernous halls of the manor, like a shadow fading in the light.
It hadn't been long, only three months, but it felt like a lifetime. She had come to Blackwood Manor searching for a way to save her father, to give him a fighting chance after the accident that had torn their world apart. But in those three months, she had found more than just a way to pay bills—she had found something unexpected.
A family.
In the quiet moments shared with Lily, in the stolen glances at Ryan as he moved through the house, she had glimpsed what a different life could be—one filled with love, even if it was out of reach. She had found a sense of belonging in the routine of her days with Lily. She had found purpose in her work, a deep connection that went beyond being just a nanny. She had found herself smiling at the simple moments—a shared laugh over a messy kitchen, the quiet joy of caring for someone who relied on her. She had never imagined it could feel this way. She had never thought she could become so attached to a little girl, or to the man who had once seemed so distant, yet somehow had always treated her with respect.
But now, as the days passed and the silence in the manor grew heavier, Sofia was forced to face the reality of what was happening. Lily was gone, and with her departure, so too was Sofia's place in the world she had grown to care for.
Her meager savings, collected over the past three months, were not nearly enough to cover her father's growing medical bills. She had hoped that by now, something would change—that a miracle might happen to ease the financial burden—but those hopes had been dashed along with her time at Blackwood Manor. The bills kept piling up, and the hospital's calls became more urgent, more demanding. The dream of saving her father felt increasingly out of reach. Sofia couldn't deny it any longer: she was stuck in a vicious cycle, and she had no way out.
As she sat on the edge of the small bed in the room she had called her own, the weight of the situation crushed down on her. The room was bare now, the last of her belongings packed into a simple suitcase. The familiar comfort of her small space was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of finality. The clothes