Months passed.

But for Cole Hunstsman, time didn’t move—it dragged. Slow. Heavy. The kind of slow that made every morning feel like he was waking up in the wrong life.

The house was quieter now. Too quiet. Emily rarely left her room except for mandated hearings; Edward was spiraling into paranoia; and Cole…

Cole had become the ghost that wandered the halls.

He sat on his bed in that same dark hoodie she always teased him about, elbows on his knees, fingers pressed to his forehead. In front of him—laid open, smoothed out, carefully unwrinkled every single day—

Laura’s letter.

The edges were soft now, worn from rereading.

The ink...