That silent night was cloaked in stillness, accompanied only by the soft ticking of the wall clock. In the dimly lit room, Eliana lay with her eyes tightly shut. Her face was pale and rigid as always—almost emotionless, as if her soul were trapped in an endless, dark fog.

But tonight was different.

A small recording device, no larger than a thumb, had been carefully placed under Eliana’s pillow by Hunter a few hours earlier. The device switched on automatically, as programmed, and began playing a soft, familiar voice.

> “Mommy always loves you, little Eliana... You like strawberries and rainbows, remember? You laugh when the sky changes colors after...