Brielle’s POV
The letter burned in Brielle’s hand, not with flames but with heat made of betrayal. She couldn’t stop reading it. Clarissa’s words etched themselves into her bones—pleas for truth, sorrow for silence. A letter that should’ve been delivered years ago. Instead, it sat in Fiona’s drawer like a forgotten ghost, quiet and accusing.
She sat on the edge of her bed, the house silent around her except for the distant hum of a late car passing outside. The shadows clung to the corners of her room. But they weren’t what scared her. What scared her was how easily silence had become a weapon in her family. The things unsaid were louder than any scream.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Clarissa.
She stared at it. There was still a part of her that bristled at the name—the sister sh
