Daddy, I found you a wife.
Or paranoia fuel.
"Hey, puzzle time? You promised. What's the test, boss? Am I passing yet?"
Angel perked up, the notepad flipping fresh. PUZZLE BOX. UNDER BED. She wriggled free, scampering to her side of the room, wait, her side?
The desk had kid-sized crayons now, a stack of paper, like Elias had prepped a playdate ambush.
She dragged out a wooden box, lid carved with stars, dumping pieces on the rug. Jigsaw chaos, maybe fifty bits, edges worn soft.
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