Brielle’s POV
The house felt different after Sean left—as if something rancid had seeped into the walls. The silence that followed his departure was not peace. It was tension in disguise. Fiona sat rigid on the arm of the couch, her knuckles white around the hem of her blouse. Gregory, pale and trembling, remained quiet, the lines on his face seeming deeper, older.
Brielle didn’t speak. Her voice had curled up inside her like a frightened animal, unwilling to come out. Her chest ached from holding too many emotions, like a dam threatening to split open. It was Harry’s call that had yanked her back to the surface.
"Someone broke into my apartment," he had said, his voice sharp with panic. "Clarissa's files are gone. Everything. My laptop, the hard drives, even the printed documents."
Ho
