تسجيل الدخولFour's POVMarcus Reynolds cried for twenty minutes straight. Dr Chen sat quietly, letting the grief pour out of him. I watched this broken man sobbing across from me and understood something fundamental. We were both victims of my father. Different kinds of victims but victims nonetheless.When Marcus finally caught his breath, he looked at me with raw vulnerability. "I have spent twenty-eight years hating. Hating your father. Hating you. Hating myself for not saving my dad somehow. The hate ate everything. My marriage. My relationship with my kids. My entire life became about this one horrible thing.""I understand that," I said quietly. "My father made me into someone I hated. I spent years trying to escape what he made me.""Tell me about him," Marcus said suddenly. "Your father. What was he really like?"So I told him. Not the sanitised version but the truth. I
Four's POVThe lawyer's office smelled like old paper and secrets. I sat between Veronica and Elena, staring at the small recording device on the table. Marcus, my attorney, stood by the window. Elena's lawyer sat across from us. Nobody spoke. We all knew what was coming."Are you ready?" the lawyer asked.I was not ready. I would never be ready. But I nodded anyway.He pressed play.My father's voice filled the room and I stopped breathing. I had not heard that voice in years but my body remembered it instantly. Every muscle tensed. My hands curled into fists. Veronica grabbed my arm, anchoring me."This is the confession of Antonio Lasombra," my father's voice said. Calm. Measured. Like he was discussing stock portfolios instead of murder. "I am recording this because I want the truth known after my death. Not for redemption. I d
Veronica's POVFour stopped sleeping. I watched him deteriorate over three days, pacing the house at night, jumping at shadows, refusing to talk about the nightmare that woke him screaming. He looked haunted in a way I had not seen since the early days after we first met. This was different though. Deeper. Older.On the fourth morning, I found him in Monte's room at dawn, just watching our son sleep. His face was wet with tears."Four," I said softly.He turned to me and I saw real fear in his eyes. Not the controlled vigilance he usually carried but raw terror."I think I remember," he whispered. "I think Elena was right. I think I watched my father kill someone and I buried it so deep I convinced myself it was a nightmare."I crossed the room and took his hands. They were ice cold."We need to call Dr Morrison," I said.
Four's POVThe café smelled like burnt coffee and regret. I sat by the window, watching strangers pass, wondering if any of them carried secrets as heavy as mine. My phone buzzed. She was here.Elena walked in and I recognised her immediately. Not from resemblance but from the way she moved. Guarded. Careful. Like she expected the world to hurt her and had learned to hurt it first. She was thirty-five, dressed in a sharp blazer that screamed lawyer, her dark hair pulled back tight. But it was her eyes that stopped me. Cold grey eyes. My father's eyes.She sat down without greeting me. No handshake. No smile. Just assessment."You look different from what I expected," she said."So do you."She ordered black coffee. I already had mine, though I had not touched it. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken histories and shared damage.
Four's POVI decided 3 am while Veronica slept beside me. The message on my phone had shaken me but it also clarified something. Running from my father's legacy had not protected me. Silence had not healed me. Maybe the only way forward was through the truth.I called Sarah at a reasonable hour the next morning. "I will do the interview. About my father. About everything.""Are you sure?""No. But I am doing it anyway."She scheduled the filming for three days later. Gave me time to prepare. To talk with Dr Morrison about what this might bring up. To warn Veronica that I might fall apart on camera."Then fall apart," Veronica said. "Let people see that healing is messy. That strength does not mean never breaking."The day of the interview I was terrified. Sweating through my shirt before we even started. Sarah
Four's POVI watched Veronica turn Sarah's business card over in her hands for three days straight. She carried it everywhere. Kitchen counter. Bedroom nightstand. Coffee table. The decision haunted her and I understood why. This was not just about her anymore. This was about all of us.We talked about it late at night when Monte was asleep. Veronica curled against my chest while I ran my fingers through her hair. The bedroom was dark except for the streetlight filtering through the curtains. Safe. Quiet. Our sanctuary."What are you thinking?" I asked."That I want to do it. That terrifies me. I do not know if wanting something and being ready for it are the same thing.""They are not always the same. But sometimes you have to jump before you feel ready.""Is that what you did? When you came to find me?""Yes. I was not ready to face you. To confront everything I had done wrong. But I jumped anyway because the alternative was losing you forever."She was quiet for a moment. "The docu
Veronica's POV Morning came softly after his call.No alarms, no rush. No headaches, just light slipping through the curtains and settling on my skin like a cautious hand.I woke up clearheaded— no heaviness behind my eyes, no regret clinging to me from the night before. For once, I didn't feel l
Veronica’s POV. The darndest things happen when you aren't thinking of them.Such as….Well, let me explain.I was seated and folding laundry and my phone beeped from across the bed.I almost didn't hear it at first– the sound of the washing machine humming filled the room, the large afternoon sun
Jason's POV Rhea slammed the bedroom door hard enough to rattle the picture frames.I stood there for a second, staring at the closed door like it might open again if I waited too long.It didn't.The silence that followed was sharp, uncomfortable– nothing like the silence I used to know.m“Rhea…
Four's POV. I left the house without saying goodbye.The night air hit my face as soon as I stepped outside, sharp and grounding.I welcomed it.It helped drown out the tension still clinging to my skin, the echo of Veronica's question, the way Claude had gone quiet too fast.Too careless.I got i







