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“Keep your focus on Noah. The legal team and sheriff will handle the Prescotts.”

Mac’s thumb traced circles on her palm, a silent reassurance. “We won’t let them manipulate this further,” he said. “Noah’s coming home with us today. That’s all that matters.”

The drive to the Prescott estate passed in tense silence. Beside her, Mac spoke briefly on the phone with Johnson, confirming details for their return journey. Outside the car windows, Boston’s elegant neighborhoods gave way to the even more exclusive enclaves of the wealthy, houses set far back from the road behind imposing gates and manicured hedges.

When they turned into a long, tree-lined drive, Kelsey’s heart began to race. The Prescott mansion loomed ahead, a colonial revival masterpiece with white columns and perfect symmetry. A place of cold privilege that David had fled and where her son had been all but imprisoned.

“Ready?” Mac asked quietly as Harrison’s car pulled up alongside theirs, followed by the sheriff’s official vehicle.

Speechless, Kelsey nodded. There was little likelihood that she would have been able to pull this together on her own. This was all Mac’s influence. In minutes, she would hold Noah again because of him.

They walked up the stone path together, the sheriff—a no-nonsense woman with a salt-and-pepper hair—leading the way. Harrison flanked Kelsey’s other side, his portfolio clutched in steady hands.

The massive front door opened before they reached it. A stern-faced housekeeper assessed them with a flat expression.

“Mrs. Prescott is expecting you,” she said, stepping back to admit them to a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase.

Margaret Prescott stood at the base of the stairs, her silver hair perfectly coiffed and her tailored pantsuit impeccable despite the early hour. She looked more frail than Kelsey remembered from their last encounter. The lines around her mouth were deeper, and her hands were slightly tremulous where they clutched a cane.

“Sheriff Daniels,” Margaret acknowledged with a curt nod.

“Mrs. Prescott,” the sheriff replied, “we’re here to execute Judge Rivera’s order in returning Noah Prescott to his mother’s custody.”

Margaret’s eyes slid to Kelsey, then narrowed at the sight of Mac standing protectively beside her. “I’ve been informed of the situation.”

Mac stiffened but chose to say nothing to the old woman. Noah was all that mattered now.

“Margaret, I’d just like to take Noah home,” Kelsey said, keeping her voice even. “This must be very confusing for him.”

“Jennifer is gathering his things,” Margaret replied, making no move to usher them further into the house. “Jason’s attorney advised us to comply, though we will be challenging this hasty decision.”

The sheriff stepped forward. “Mrs. Prescott, I’ll need to see the child immediately.”

Margaret’s lips thinned, but she turned toward the staircase. “Jennifer!” she called. “Bring Noah down, please.”

A flurry of movement upstairs, and then Jennifer appeared at the top of the stairs, her delicate features pinched with worry. Behind her, small sneakers visible at shin level, was Noah.

“Mom?” His voice, uncertain and small, broke something inside Kelsey.

“I’m here, sweet pea,” she called, stepping instinctively toward the stairs.

Noah darted around Jennifer and flew down the stairs with reckless abandon. Kelsey caught him at the bottom, his small body crashing into hers with the force of his need. She wrapped her arms around him and breathed in the familiar scent of his hair, his skin. His heart race against hers.

“I knew you’d come,” he whispered against her neck, his voice wobbling. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me.”

“Never,” Kelsey promised fiercely. Tears threatened despite her determination to stay composed. “I will never leave you.”

Noah pulled back slightly, his eyes shining. He seemed both smaller and older somehow, the stress of the past days evident in the shadows beneath his eyes.

“Mac!” he exclaimed suddenly, noticing the man standing a respectful distance behind Kelsey. “You came too!”

“Of course I did, buddy,” Mac said. His voice was gentler than Kelsey had ever heard it.

Jennifer descended the stairs, carrying Noah’s backpack and his small suitcase. “I’ve packed all his things,” she said quietly, her eyes not quite meeting Kelsey’s.

“Thank you.” Kelsey was genuinely grateful for Jennifer’s consideration. The woman had always seemed out of place among the Prescotts, too kind for their cold world.

“Noah,” Margaret said in her imperious tone, “come say goodbye to your grandmother properly.”