The penthouse living room had become a confession booth.The soft-box lights were back, but the mood was different. It wasn't defensive. It was collaborative.Leo Kazinsky, the director, sat on an apple crate, his camera balanced on his shoulder. He didn't use tripods. He liked the movement, the breath of the frame."We're not making a press release," Leo had told them an hour ago. "We're making a collage. A mosaic of survival."Aria sat on the sofa, her legs tucked under her. She wore a simple white sweater, her hair loose. No heavy makeup. No armor.Beside her sat Noah. He was holding Liam, who was awake and staring at the camera lens with wide, dark eyes.And behind them, sitting on the window ledge, stood Julian and Sienna. The outcasts. The "other" siblings."Rolling," Leo said softly."Tell me about the family," Leo prompted. "Not the one you were born into. The one you built."Aria looked at Noah. She reached out and touched Liam’s tiny hand."We were all broken," Aria said. "I
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