CHARLES FOX.
I sat on the couch in my dimly lit living room, staring blankly at the wall. My mind kept drifting back to the events of the last few days—the letter, the endless circles I’d been running trying to uncover the truth about my family, and, of course, Ruby. The guilt of how I’d treated her was eating away at me, but I kept telling myself it was necessary. I had to keep her at a distance, for her own safety.
The sound of my phone ringing snapped me out of my thoughts. At first, I considered ignoring it—probably another pointless call from work. But something in the back of my mind urged me to check. I picked it up, squinting at the screen. Ruby’s name flashed across the display.
I hesitated, my heart suddenly racing. I hadn’t spoken to her in days, not since that argument. Why
