Arnold Sullivan brought his car to a halt as soon as he arrived at the grand Barlowe mansion. He lingered in the driver's seat, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel, his mind drifting back to the days before Orla's misfortunes began.

Orla had been a sweetheart, always cheerful and kind-hearted, and he had loved her and Isla deeply. Arnold replayed countless memories, trying to pinpoint the moment when everything changed, when his trust faltered, and he was quick to judge Orla without giving her a fair chance. The weight of guilt bore down on him like a heavy cloak; he had wronged her in ways that gnawed at...