Michael's heart hammered a frantic, desperate rhythm against his ribs as Ada gently steered him back into the house. Every cell in his body screamed for flight, but her unsuspecting grip, her sorrowful eyes, held him captive. He climbed the first few steps of the grand staircase, his gaze darting around, searching for a phantom exit, a sudden reprieve. His mind raced, calculating, discarding, recalculating. He needed a miracle.
And then, almost as if the universe had heard him, Ada's phone chimed, a bright, insistent melody cutting through the heavy air of grief. She frowned, pulling it from her pocket. "Excuse me, Jude, just a moment," she murmured, her attention diverting to the screen. It was Kingsley's mother, by the looks of it. Ada began to answer, her voice softening into a more fo
