Scarlett’s POV
I stood by the living room window of the mountain house, staring out at the fog rolling over the hills like slow-moving waves. The air smelled of wet earth and pine, but my mind was far from peaceful.
My new phone, untraceable, sat on the table beside me. I hadn’t touched it in hours. Miriam was in the kitchen, nervously fussing with dishes she didn’t need to clean.
The journal rested on my lap like a loaded weapon.
Charles’s letter kept replaying in my head:
“The people you trust the most… may have been lying the longest.”
I closed the journal and stood.
“Miriam,” I called, keeping my voice low but firm.
She stepped out from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “Yes?”
“We need to collect samples from my mother and my sister,” I said. “Hair, toothbrushes, anyth
