HARRY'S POINT OF VIEW.
The letter felt wrong the moment Xavier unfolded it.
He stood near the table, shoulders squared, eyes moving more slowly than usual as he read. Xavier skimmed when things were simple. He slowed down when something bothered him. That alone made my stomach tighten.
“Well? You’re reading it like it’s about to bite you. What does it actually say?” I heard the sharpness in my voice and didn’t care. Waiting made me restless. It always had. Silence let thoughts spiral, and I’d had enough spiraling for one lifetime.
Xavier glanced up briefly, then back down at the page. “It says enough to pretend it’s polite,” he replied.
“But not enough to hide what it’s really doing.” That answer didn’t reassure me. It did the opposite. My stepmother never wrote without intent. If she
