Victoria realized something was fundamentally wrong the moment the sprawling Grey estate went quiet. It wasn't the peaceful, heavy silence of a house at rest; it was a staged, curated stillness. It felt as if someone had studied the mechanics of silence and was now deploying it as a tactical weapon.
She paused at the mahogany banister at the top of the grand staircase, her heart skipping a beat. Below, the living room was bathed in the golden, deceptive glow of the afternoon sun. Dust motes danced in the light, settling on the plush rugs and the expensive art that lined the walls. Toys sat abandoned where her son had left them just an hour earlier—a wooden train set mid-track, a dinosaur forgotten on its side.
And there, kneeling on the floor in the center of the sunlight, was Leah.
Vic
