The photographs scattered across the bed told a story Maya wished she'd never uncovered. Each image was a window into a version of Declan she didn't recognize—younger, harder, with eyes that held something cold and unreachable. In one photo, he stood beside men in tactical gear, weapons slung across their chests, against a backdrop of desert sand and smoke. In another, he wore a suit that looked expensive, shaking hands with a man whose face had been scratched out so violently the photo paper had torn.Maya's hands trembled as she picked up the final image. Declan, maybe twenty-five, holding a little girl who couldn't have been more than three. The girl's face was pressed against his shoulder, her small hands clutching his shirt. On the back, in faded ink: Sophia. I'm sorry.She'd found the shoebox hidden behind loose boards in the boathouse—the one place Declan had asked her never to go alone. She should have listened. Some doors, once opened, changed everything on the other side."Y
Last Updated : 2025-12-27 Read more