This choice: in the foster house, the beginning of the mission • Go Back...Chapter #4Arrival at Holloway House by: kranz   The car ride was long, and every passing mile deepened the knot in my stomach. I sat restrained in an infant car seat, my body snugly secured by padded straps that dug into my small frame. The seat itself was humiliatingly perfect—plush, pastel-colored, with a little mobile dangling above my head, swaying gently with the car’s motion. I stared at it blankly, forcing my breathing to remain steady.
The agent posing as my "adoption broker" sat in the front, casually chatting with the driver, making the entire situation feel even more surreal. To them, this was just another assignment. To me, this was six months of being trapped in a role I couldn’t break.
Outside, the city slowly gave way to rolling green hills and gated estates. The Holloway estate was secluded, hidden behind tall iron gates that creaked open as we approached. The driveway was long, lined with cherry blossom trees in full bloom. It was the kind of place that looked picturesque, warm, and welcoming—the kind of place that wouldn’t raise suspicions.
I wasn’t fooled.
As the car came to a stop, my heart pounded. This was it.
The front doors of the grand estate opened before we even got out. A woman stepped out onto the porch, her presence so effortlessly gentle and warm that it almost disarmed me. Elaine Holloway. She was in her early forties, with soft brown curls framing a delicate face. She had that natural beauty that didn’t need effort—clear skin, bright eyes, a poised but approachable presence. She wore a light blue dress, simple yet elegant, and the way she carried herself made her seem like she had stepped right out of a storybook.
But it was the expression on her face that caught me most off guard.
Pure, unguarded maternal affection.
She looked at me as if she had already fallen in love.
"Oh, my sweet little angel," she breathed, stepping forward.
I swallowed hard, my body tensing instinctively as the car door was opened. The agent quickly unbuckled me from the car seat and, without hesitation, lifted me out and into Elaine’s waiting arms. She cradled me effortlessly, as though she had done it a thousand times before, and I found myself enveloped in the scent of lavender and vanilla. Her warmth was immediate, her embrace secure but gentle.
I had been passed between foster parents before, but there was something unsettlingly real about the way Elaine held me. She wasn’t just going through the motions—she was savoring the moment.
"She’s even more precious than I imagined," she said softly, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. I fought the urge to flinch.
The agent cleared his throat, keeping up the charade. "Her name is Olivia. As we discussed, she’s an abandoned case—no ties, no paper trail. Perfect for your program."
Elaine adjusted me in her arms, rocking me slightly as though I were fussing. I wasn’t, but the way she moved so naturally, so instinctively, made it impossible not to feel small.
"She’s perfect," she murmured.
The agent handed over a thick envelope—probably fake adoption paperwork, medical records, everything needed to make this transaction look legitimate. Elaine took it with one hand, barely shifting me as she did.
"As you know, we have a very particular approach to child-rearing," she said, her tone still warm but now slightly businesslike. "We believe in structure, in proper emotional development. Many of the children who come through our program have experienced instability before arriving here. We ensure they leave us with… a deep sense of security."
The agent nodded. "That’s exactly why we brought her to you. We know you’ll take good care of her."
Elaine’s fingers traced soothing circles against my back. It was subtle, but deliberate. The way one might comfort an anxious baby. I felt my breath hitch. She knew I was scared.
She wanted me to know that she felt it—and that she was here to take care of me.
I had expected a cold, distant foster mother. Someone who would see me as just another child to mold, to break. But Elaine Holloway was dangerous in a different way. She wasn’t playing a role. She truly believed in whatever she was doing here.
And worse?
For the first time in my life, I felt what it was like to be wanted.
"I’ll take it from here," Elaine finally said, her voice soft, reassuring.
The agent gave a small nod before turning back toward the car, leaving me alone in her arms.
And just like that, my mission had begun.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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