Cassidy
A few days had passed since that night in the library.
Kieran's words still echoed in my head like a riddle that refused to die.
"Who could this third man be?"
No one had answered. Not then. Not yet.
The estate had settled into a strange, waiting silence since. Conversations felt shorter. Eye contact lingered too long. The kind of quiet that always comes before thunder.
Tonight, it cracked.
I was sitting by the tall windows downstairs when my phone buzzed.
> Celeste: On my way. My mom called me. She said she wanted to talk to all of us.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
A door opened down the hall a few minutes later, and there she was—Celeste, walking through the main foyer, boots clicking softly against the marble.
She spotted me, paused, then walked over.
"Hey," I said, standing.
Her shoulders were stiff. Her face unreadable.
"mom sent for me," she said. "Said we need to talk. All of us."
