The early morning sun had barely crested the horizon when Xavier's black SUV pulled into the driveway of their sprawling mansion. He stepped out, his form casting a long shadow on the gravel as he moved with purpose toward the imposing front door. This dawn-lit return had become an unwelcome ritual, ever since Cathleen crumbled under the weight of their loss, clutching a doll to her chest instead of their baby Bella.

He entered the quiet living room, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air like a veiled accusation. Cathleen was there, as expected, perched on the edge of their plush cream sofa, which now seemed...