Brielle’s POV
It started with the silence. A kind that wrapped itself around Brielle’s chest like invisible rope, tight and breathless. She stared at the anonymous message again, the words burned into her mind: If Clarissa speaks, she dies.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she locked her phone and tossed it onto the coffee table. The room around her spun even though nothing moved. Fiona was in the kitchen, humming something low under her breath as she poured herself coffee. Clarissa was upstairs with her daughter—the little girl they all now knew existed.
Brielle gripped the edge of the couch and tried to steady her thoughts.
“You alright?” Adrian’s voice cut through the fog. He was standing by the door, watching her. Concern lined his face, the kind that showed up in the furrow betwee
