Melinda’s POV
I almost didn’t answer the call.
The number was local, but I didn’t recognize it. And I’d gotten too used to ignoring things with no name attached.
But something — instinct, maybe — told me to pick up.
“Melinda Holt?” a man asked.
I paused.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
A breath.
Then:
“My name is Daniel Holt. I’m Andrew’s brother.”
I didn’t speak.
Not at first.
Because Andrew had never mentioned a brother. Not once. Not during the marriage. Not during the divorce. Not even during the custody battle.
The only family I ever saw was Margot — quiet, cold, calculating Margot — who knew how to do nothing but smooth over cracks and pour more concrete over the truth.
“I didn’t call to stir anything up,” Daniel said. “I just… I read your book. Or most of it. An early copy. A frien
