Martin was taken separately. As officers guided him down the steps, he glanced at Julian.
“You always were the sentimental one,” he remarked.
Julian answered quietly.
“And you always mistook cruelty for intelligence.”
Martin laughed.
But this time, fear lingered beneath his laughter.
After they were gone, the house felt unfamiliar.
Too quiet.
Too exposed.
Daniel and our housekeeper, Marta, had taken the boys upstairs and were guarding the bedroom door like soldiers.
Noah refused to sleep.
He sat on the bed with his brothers curled beside him, clutching the phone that had recorded Vanessa’s confession.
When I entered, he looked up at me.
“Did I do bad?”
My heart broke.
I sat beside him and gathered him into my arms.
“No, baby. You were very brave.”
“I didn’t like her.”
“I didn’t either.”
“Is she really our grandma?”
The question pierced straight through me.
I gently brushed his hair back.
