No one moved for a full second after Damian said it.
The study seemed to narrow around the open safe, the hidden panel, the empty black shelves where my life had apparently once been stored like a private liability.
My mother was the first to break.
“No,” she whispered again, this time like the word itself might reverse what had already happened.
August dragged a hand over his jaw. “The records should have been secured.”
My mother rounded on him. “That is not the same thing as destroyed.”
“No,” I said, staring at the empty safe. “Apparently it isn’t.”
Damian stepped closer to the wall compartment, his expression gone so still it no longer looked like calm. It looked like decision.
“What records?” I asked.
August answered before anyone else could. “Birth records. Private acknowledg
