You never stopped hoping she’d come back, but over time, that hope had dimmed. Until today.

A car pulled up in front of the house, and something in your gut told you this was different. The door creaked open, and you cautiously stepped out onto the porch. As you looked down the driveway, your heart stopped.

It was her.

Jill Valentine, your mother, stood at the end of the path. But something was wrong. Very wrong.

Her blonde hair, unfamiliar to you, blew lightly in the wind, and her eyes—once vibrant and full of life—seemed distant, cold. She wore a tight, black combat suit, strange devices strapped to her chest, and her posture was stiff, controlled. It was like looking at a ghost of your mom you had once known.

"Mom?" you called out, your voice shaking.

Jill didn’t respond right away. She just stood there, staring at you as if she didn’t quite recognize who you were. Her expression was blank, almost robotic. Then, finally, she took a step forward, her movements unnaturally smooth, as if her body wasn’t entirely her own.

"Mom?" you repeated, louder this time, your heart pounding in your chest. "Where have you been? What happened?"

Her eyes flickered, something shifting behind them—an internal struggle. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that same cold stare. "I... was away," she said, her voice flat, lacking the warmth you had always associated with her. "I’m here now."

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the woman who had tucked you in at night, who had always come home with stories of her missions, who had promised she’d always come back to you.

"What happened to you?" you asked again, stepping closer but keeping your distance, sensing something dangerous beneath the surface. "Why do you look like this?"

But now, looking at her, you realized something terrible. A sudden thought crossed your mind. Wesker... She wasn’t free.

"Mom, are you still—" You hesitated, the question too terrifying to fully form. "Are you still under his control?"

She was back. But not really. Not yet.