“Did you sleep okay?” Daniel asked.
Ethan hesitated, then nodded.
“She said I was better yesterday,” he added quietly.
The word “better” echoed in Daniel’s mind, wrong somehow.
They arrived at the school. Ethan stepped out, pausing before closing the door, his eyes lingering on Daniel.
It wasn’t a request.
But it felt like one.
Daniel watched him walk inside, then stayed parked longer than necessary.
Today was the day.
Not a sudden choice—but one already made the moment Ethan had whispered those words.
Instead of leaving, Daniel picked up his phone.
He hesitated for a second.
Then he called.
His voice stayed calm. Careful. He didn’t exaggerate. He didn’t accuse.
He simply described what he had seen.
And once spoken, the words couldn’t be taken back.
When the call ended, a strange stillness settled over him. Not relief—something closer to acceptance.
The rest of the day passed slowly.
By the time he returned to the estate, something had shifted.
The house still looked perfect.
But unfamiliar cars were parked outside. The silence felt different—tense.
Daniel stepped out, heart steady but heavy.
Inside, voices—low, controlled, but urgent—filled the air.