Isabella’s POV The house settled into an uneasy rhythm over the next forty-eight hours, Lucas stayed close to me, helping me do chores.He carried the heavy canvas bags from the market run without being asked, shoulders flexing under the weight of pineapples, fresh fish. He climbed the ladder to fix the loose shutter on the east window, while I held the ladder steady while he tightened screws, our eyes meeting once through the open pane, a small, wordless acknowledgment that we were both still here, still trying. Mom and Victor moved like one, heads bent over phones and laptops, voices low during calls to lawyers back home who were trying to contain the media storm before it swallowed us whole. They spoke in clipped fragments: “subpoena the server logs,” “motion to seal the juvenile records,” “gag order on the twins if they talk.” Victor’s hand rested on Mom’s lower back whenever they stood together, I saw the love glow each time they met each other's eyes.Maria and Lila turned the
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