Brielle’s POV
The morning after the letter arrived was gray and restless, as though the sky itself bore the weight Brielle couldn’t name. She sat at the edge of her bed, bare feet on the cold floor, Clarissa’s unopened envelope in her hand. Her fingertips trembled against the paper.
She had held it all night, too afraid of the truth it carried.
Fiona had been in the kitchen, quiet and distant. The air between them was cracked glass—beautiful once, but broken by time and truth.
Adrian hadn’t said much since his father disinherited him. He moved through Gregory’s house like a quiet shadow, there but not really present. His silence wasn’t just about pride—it was full of pain, confusion, and something heavier, like shame. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, didn’t start conversations. It felt li
