The weather report lied.
It said “scattered showers” for the evening. the sky tore open.
I was in the main house, trying to sleep in the guest room. The wind hit first, rattling the windows hard enough to shake the glass. Then the rain came, sideways and loud. Lights flickered twice and died.
“Emily?” Sophie’s voice came from the hall, muffled by the storm.
“Here,” I called back.
“Stay put. Liam’s checking the generator.”
Liam.
Of course it was Liam. If something broke, he fixed it.
I didn’t go back to bed. I pulled on my hoodie and followed the sound of voices downstairs.
The living room was lit by phone flashlights. Maya, Leo, Noah, Sophie—all of them clustered near the back door. Rain lashed the deck.
“The generator’s dead,” Liam said as he came in from out
