James found the folded note by accident, sliding a stack of invoices aside as he hunted for a contract.
The paper was small, the handwriting shaky and hurried. He read it once, twice, the words cutting through him with the blunt force of truth; briefly detailing what Tiana was saying over the phone yesterday when he ordered the person on the phone to make ‘the boy’ is not found.
James’s chest tightened, an animal panic rising. He crumpled the paper in his fist, the edges digging into his palm, then walked straight into the living room without thinking.
Tiana sat where she always did, poised and composed, a glass of juice untouched on the side table.
Her face was wet with tears the moment he entered; the kind of performative grief that made his stomach twist. “James?” she said, voice
