My mind screamed at me to move, to shout, to expose them, to set the whole place on fire with truth, but something heavier kept me rooted: a need to know how far back this went, because if it was real—and it was—then it wasn’t new, it was grown, and grown things have roots that don’t appear overnight.
That’s when Brianna’s phone crackled, and the voice that came through made the horror snap into focus so violently it felt like the floor shifted.
It was my brother.
Derek.
He didn’t sound nervous, or guilty, or even excited; he sounded focused, like a director calling cues on a set he’d built carefully over time. “The loan document is in her blue folder,” Derek said, “the one with her important papers—she probably left it in the closet or her suitcase. Brianna, check the closet. Ethan, check the suitcase.”