(Liam's point of view)
The first thin light of dawn was just beginning to sift through the blinds when I returned with the envelope. I had found it exactly where Neri said it would be: tucked into the hollow of the old oak at the northern edge of the property, wrapped in waterproof plastic like a secret kept safe from dew. As I held it in my hands, its moral weight felt heavier than its paper and plastic — compact, anonymous, and filled with the currency of our fragile peace.
For a long minute I simply sat in my leather armchair, the unopened packet resting on the maple table I had built with my own hands from trees on this land. From the next room came the small, domestic sounds of morning: Hailey’s soft cooing as she rocked Mateo,
Isabella’s tired little footsteps as she padded about
