81Alex.The capital felt different now. I hadn’t been gone that long, not really— it’s been months—but somehow the air seemed heavier the moment I crossed the city limits. Maybe it was memory pressing in, the weight of too many years spent playing the part of the dutiful son, the ruthless heir, the man people whispered about in boardrooms and newspapers. Maybe it was just me, finally seeing the place without the same blinders I once wore.The Marwood estate stood like it always had, a monument to pride and money. From the outside, it looked unshaken, untouched by scandal. But I knew better. Inside, the walls held too many silences, too many lies.I parked the car slowly, hands tightening on the wheel as if I could hold back time for one more moment. Then I stepped out, walked up the steps, and knocked. Not because I had to—this was still technically my home—but because I couldn’t bring myself to barge in. Not anymore.A nurse opened the door. She was new; they always seemed to cycle
80Stella.I never liked the word “dinner meeting.” It always seemed to blur lines too easily, especially when the person on the other side of the table was someone like Dane Callahan. He was my boss, the new owner who had swept in with sharp suits and big visions, but also someone whose presence had a way of making people second-guess what exactly he wanted. Tonight, as I buttoned my blouse and checked my reflection one last time in the mirror, I reminded myself that this was business. Purely business.Josh teased me when I left the house, asking if I was going to charm Dane into giving the hotel staff a raise. I smiled but didn’t answer. The truth was, I didn’t know what to expect. Dane was a man who seemed to calculate everything, from the angle of his smile to the weight of his silences. Still, I owed it to myself—and to the hotel—to at least hear him out.The restaurant was one of those places where the lighting was warm but dim, where tables were far enough apart to give a sense
79Josh.The air along the waterfront always felt different than anywhere else in the city. Maybe it was the salt smell, the way the breeze carried just enough chill to clear your head, or the endless sound of waves rolling in and out, steady as a heartbeat. I’d walked here countless times over the years, sometimes with Stella when we needed to talk, sometimes with the twins when they had energy to burn. But today, it was Anna by my side, and that changed everything.We started at the end of the pier just as the sun was dipping, the sky streaked in pinks and oranges. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets, not from the cold, but to ground myself. I wasn’t used to letting anyone in this far. Not since… well, not since Eleanor. Losing our mother had built walls I hadn’t realized were so tall until Anna started gently leaning against them, brick by brick.“You’re quiet,” she said, her tone light but probing. Her hair caught the wind, and she tucked a strand behind her ear.I smiled fai
78Alex.I hadn’t run a race in years. The last time had been back in the capital, at one of those corporate-sponsored marathons where every participant wore a shirt with a brand logo and the point was less about fitness and more about networking. Back then, I had run because it was expected of me. Today was different. Today, I ran because I wanted to show my children that I could be a part of their world, not just a shadow lurking around the edges.The charity run was small by comparison, just a few blocks cordoned off in the town center, with volunteers handing out water bottles and brightly colored banners strung between lampposts. The money raised would go toward the school’s music program, which apparently had been struggling to afford instruments for new students. I liked the simplicity of it. No corporate handshakes, no cameras hunting for scandal, just neighbors gathering to do something good.When I signed up, I hadn’t expected anyone to notice. I thought I’d run my few miles
77Emma had always liked mornings best. The world felt softer then, not yet filled with questions or whispers. She liked the way the light spilled across her window and caught the edges of her seedling, now a little taller every week. But mornings at school weren’t always as kind. By the time she sat at her desk, pencil in hand, she could already feel the weight of the other kids’ eyes. That’s her, the one with the mom in the papers. They didn’t always say it out loud anymore, but Emma could feel it, sharp as pins.Eli, on the other hand, thrived on mornings. He bounded down the school hallway like it was a racetrack, calling to his friends, dribbling his soccer ball against the wall until a teacher frowned. “Tryouts today,” he whispered to Emma, as if she could forget. He’d been buzzing about it all week, practicing kicks in the backyard until Patch yelped and darted away from another near miss.Emma smiled at his excitement but kept her worries to herself. For her, the day’s challen
76Josh.A letter was waiting for me on my desk when I arrived at the clinic that Monday morning. A plain white envelope, no return address, my name printed in a typeface that felt too formal to be casual. I slit it open with a pen, expecting maybe a patient referral or some misplaced billing. Instead, a single sheet slid out with official lettering across the top.Notice of Health Inspection — Scheduled Visit, Wednesday 10 a.m.I sat back in my chair, frowning. Inspections weren’t unusual. Clinics, especially small ones like mine, were checked every so often to make sure procedures were followed and records kept in order. But this felt sudden. Too sudden. We’d had one less than a year ago. Everything had been spotless.“Complaints,” I muttered, scanning the fine print. That was the word buried halfway down. The visit had been prompted by a complaint.Anna came in just then, balancing a stack of charts. She saw my expression and paused. “What is it?”I handed her the paper. She read i