10:17 PM. The Carter Mansion. Richard’s Study.

Richard sat alone in the dark, the brandy untouched on the desk.

Elizabeth had gone upstairs without another word. No slammed doors. No dramatics. Just silence—the kind that settled into the bones and refused to leave.

Richard loosened his tie, his fingers clumsy. His reflection in the glass cabinet looked older. Smaller. Like a man who had finally run out of excuses.

His phone vibrated on the desk.

Damian Cross.

Richard closed his eyes.

Don’t answer, his mind screamed.

If you answer, you’ll say something you can’t take back.

The phone vibrated again.

Richard exhaled and picked it up.

“Damian,” he said quietly....