Velicia didn’t come out for either breakfast or lunch, which seemed strange.
Cole paced the length of the hallway, hands shoved into his pockets, when Carl stepped out.
“She’s not in the room,” Carl announced, leaning against the wall. They exchanged uneasy glances. They didn’t want to overreact—but something felt off.
“She needs time,” Cray said, trying to brush it off. “We just buried Dad. She’s grieving.”
“She’s always in her room when she’s grieving,” Carl muttered. “She doesn’t just vanish.”
A tense silence followed. They all felt it now—that gnawing sense that something was wrong.
“She’s probably in the gardens,” Cole offered, almost as if trying to convince himself. “Or maybe the piano room. She likes to play when she’s stressed.”
Carl straightened. “Check the garden. Cray, s
