They spent nearly thirty minutes taking photographs afterward. Ms. Alvarez insisted on several pictures near the stage curtains while curious classmates whispered excitedly about Lila’s “rich dad.” One little boy even asked Elliot if he was famous because “he looked like someone from TV.”
Elliot laughed softly.
“Only in very boring business magazines.”
Every time someone asked who he was, Lila answered the same way.
“This is my dad.”
The lie became easier each time she repeated it.
Not because she enjoyed deception.
Because part of her already desperately wanted it to be true.
Eventually the crowd began thinning while janitors folded extra chairs near the walls. Elliot glanced briefly at his watch before looking back toward Lila carefully.
“I should probably head out soon,” he admitted gently. “My driver’s been waiting forever.”
The words hit her chest like cold water.
Of course.
Men like Elliot Vance didn’t spend afternoons wandering around elementary schools pretending to belong to children from broken apartment buildings.
Reality was returning now.
Lila lowered her eyes quickly.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For all of it.”
Elliot studied her quietly for several seconds.
Then he asked something unexpected.
“Would it be okay if I walked you home?”
Her head snapped upward instantly.
“You want to?”
“I’d like to meet your grandmother,” he answered softly. “And make sure you get home safely.”
Hope returned so fast it almost hurt.
The walk across town felt strangely peaceful.
Elliot never rushed her. He listened while she pointed out the tiny library where she spent afternoons reading after school, the laundromat mural she secretly loved, and the corner store owner who sometimes gave her free candy when her grandmother came up short on grocery money.
