"Do you love him more than me?" James asked, his small voice trembling as he showed Amiriam the dog-eared drawing he had drawn—three stick figures beneath a crooked sun: him, Amiriam, and Luke. His big brown eyes searched Amiriam's face for an answer he was not old enough to understand, but too hardy to keep silent.Amiriam slowly knelt down before him, her heart racing against the cage of her chest as if it was trying to burst out. "Oh, sweetheart," she sighed, gently stroking his curls back. "There's no one I adore more than you.""But you're crying." James gestured, pouting lips, confusion etched in every line of his little body. "Did I do something wrong?"Luke braced himself in the doorway, arms crossed but expression unreadable. He'd heard enough in the kitchen. Each phrase James uttered had struck something raw in him—something he couldn't define, but couldn't ignore.Amiriam enveloped James in a hug. "You didn't do anything wrong. Sometimes… grown-ups get scared too."James cl
"Luke, what does it say?" James inquired, holding the torn envelope in his small, ink-smeared hands.Luke whirled, taken aback by the question and the piercing glint in the boy's eyes. The envelope was worn, yellowed by time, and the corner was frayed like it had been tucked away for far too long. But it was not the envelope that made his belly knot—it was the name scribbled on the paper within. A name he didn't think James ever would discover."Where did you get that?" Luke asked warily, bending to James' level.James pointed at the lower drawer of Jackson's old study desk. "It was stuck back there. I was looking for crayons."Luke took the envelope softly, his hands now quivering nervously. His eyes scanned the name again: Derek Langdon."That's not a crayon," Luke grunted, trying to smile.James did not smile. His eyebrows were scrunched up, the way they always got when he was stumped by a puzzle. "Is he my dad?"The words lingered between them.Luke hesitated. He was not to know t
"Is that all you’re going to say, Jackson?” Luke’s voice was sharp, arms crossed as he leaned against the sterile white wall of the hospital room. “You knew about Stacy. You’ve been watching her for years?”Jackson Oden stirred out of the bed, pale and sleepy, IV line taped to the back of his rumpled hand. He yawned and looked more aged now—more aged than he ever permitted himself to look. His eyes fell on Luke's, sunken but still unyielding. "I didn't claim to know everything. I claimed—I hired Langston. Years ago."Amiriam huddled by the window, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. Inside the hospital room, the air hung heavy, the fluorescent lights above them flashing as if they shared their doubts too.Rita sat in a chair next to the bed, lips pursed, exchanging quiet looks with Christiana, who stood frozen behind her. James had just been ushered from the room by Richard and Zack. Thank God. He didn't have to listen to any of this.Luke stepped forward. "Why? Why bring in so
"I know what you did," Luke said, voice husky, as cutting as glass. Jackson Oden refused to look up from his ledger. The warm afternoon light streamed through the windows of his study, casting a glow on the gold-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. "You'll have to be more specific, son. I've done quite a few things." Luke's jaw had tightened. The veneer of calmness that had shrouded his tone was beginning to crack. "Bloom Foundation. Someone set up phony documents. Phony expenses. Internal accounts routed into off-shore investments. You think I'd not notice?" Jackson had slowly lifted his eyes, rock-steady and icy. "And you think I'd sabotage the one project you've dedicated your life to? "I think you've thrown away better," Luke shot back. "And I think you have something to hide besides acting." There was silence between them for a long while. A clock in the background seemed to chime with every tick of time. Jackson leaned back, his hands curled over the edge of
"I know who leaked it," Victor said, voice low, even, and too calm for the storm he was about to unleash.Amiriam looked up from the scattered printouts on her desk. Luke, beside her, sat up straight immediately, tension coiling up his spine. The gentle hum of the retreat house fell away under Victor's words, as if the world knew something cataclysmic had just shattered."Who?" Amiriam demanded, voice barely steady.Victor leaned in, placing a closed folder on the table between them. His eyes never left hers. "Tasha Rivers."Amiriam's eyes widened. The name didn't register at first. "Tasha?" she breathed. "You mean—Tasha in admin? The same Tasha who did all the Bloom Initiative survivor contacts? The same Tasha who cried the day that survivor talked to us about her father?"Victor didn't flinch. "The same."Luke cursed under his breath, standing up to pace, his fists clenched. Amiriam's hand trembled a bit as she opened the folder and looked at the screenshots inside. Emails, message
“You okay?” Luke asked, voice low as he placed a cup of chamomile tea in front of Amiriam.She blinked, her eyes red from sleep-deprived nights. The retreat was two hours away, and they’d arrived the night before to oversee final details at the lakeside cabin center. “I’m fine,” she lied, pinching the bridge of her nose.He rested his hands on the table in front of them. "You look like you haven't slept in a week.""I probably haven't slept in three," she confessed. "Between planning workshops and reading intake forms…"He leaned over to squeeze her hand. "We've got this. We're in this together."She smiled nervously. "Thanks."He nodded. "We'll get back to this later."Both James and James' dad stood, approaching the lounge where Christiana and Rita sat in silence, preparing low chairs for group sessions.---The morning sky was pale pink by the lake's waters as participants began to arrive—a cohort of battered women by trauma: victims of domestic violence, ex-human-trafficking clien