Keegan nodded, and the other person quietly left, closing the door behind them.

Paul’s gaze lingered on the departing figure for a long time.

Keegan filled a bowl with eggnog and placed it on a tray, then gently slid it towards Paul. “Mr. Morant, try it.”

Paul stared at the bowl of eggnog in front of him. Memories began to surface—perhaps it was his rundown childhood home, his parents who called him a burden and refused to support his education, even resenting him for eating an extra piece of meat at dinner. Or maybe it was the little boy who once snuck into his room with a bowl of eggnog, telling him not to cry and promising to always share his sweet soup…

belonged to another life. But now, they came rushing back, pulling

clung to him

over, gripping the table, his body trembling with the intensity of the

and whispered, “Mr. Morant?

his head, his eyes bloodshot, face pale, and sweat beading on his forehead. After what felt like an eternity, he rasped, “What…

only wanted to share a meal with you. It’s been over 20 years. Surely, you’ve forgotten what the food from home tastes

playing mind games. If Keegan had found Dillon, what else might he

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