The lake house grew quieter with each passing hour, silence pressing against the walls like a living thing. By the third day, Sierra felt as though her own pulse was the loudest sound in the house, betraying her with every beat.
Vanessa moved through the rooms with a graceful ease that unsettled her more than anger ever could. She wasn’t shouting, she wasn’t accusing, she was smiling, humming, arranging flowers in vases, as though she had all the time in the world.
And maybe she did.
Sierra knew what it meant: Vanessa wasn’t searching anymore. She was waiting.
The Invitation
That afternoon, Vanessa appeared in the doorway of Sierra’s room. She leaned lightly against the frame, her smile gentle.
“Darling, would you help me with something?”
Sierra froze. “What?”
“I need an extra pai
