Part I — The Man at the Grave Julian Vale was supposed to announce his engagement in four hours, but at nine that morning he sat at his dead wife’s grave with both hands over his face, crying so hard he could not hear the cemetery gates closing behind him. The ring box was still…

Part I — The Doorway Lena Vale should not have looked through the doorway, but the whole room had gone quiet for Adrian Cross, and her heart had never learned how to look away from him. She stood at the stainless-steel sink with her sleeves pinned above her wrists, rinsing champagne flutes beneath a running…

Part I — The Back Door Noah Vale sat at the black grand piano in a gray hoodie while a hundred people in silk, wool, and diamonds waited to see whether he would embarrass himself. The chandelier above him was so bright it made the keys look surgical. His worn sneakers barely touched the polished…

Part I — The Phone in His Hand The boy came through the black umbrellas like something the rain had dragged from a ditch. At first, Evelyn Whitcomb thought he was one of the groundskeeper’s children. Twelve, perhaps. Small for it. Mud up to his shins. Hair plastered to his forehead. An oversized jacket hanging…

Part I — The Boy at the Rope Adrian Vale crushed the white flowers before he ever saw the boy who brought them. One polished black shoe came down on the small bouquet at the edge of the red track, flattening the stems against the rubber surface. The blue ribbon around them snapped loose. A…

Part I — The Boy in the Storm Caleb Ward saw his son through the rain before he saw the house. Milo was standing barefoot on the stone patio, both hands pressed against the locked glass door, his red Spider-Man mask hanging limp around his neck. His costume was soaked dark, clinging to his small…

Part I — The Hand at Her Purse The boy touched Evelyn Hart’s purse like he wanted to steal from her, and for one sharp second, under the warm hotel lights, she hated him for making her afraid. Her hand snapped down over the gold chain strap. “Don’t,” she said. The word came out too…

Part I — The Card on the Table Michael slid the dark debit card across the kitchen table like it might burn his fingers. Emily did not pick it up. For three seconds, she only looked at the chip, the raised silver numbers, the familiar bank logo, and the name embossed beneath it. Daniel Whitmore….

Part I — The Necklace That Did Not Belong Emily knew the exact moment Barbara Whitmore saw the pendant. The old woman’s smile froze first. Then her eyes dropped from the champagne tray in Emily’s hands to the emerald at her throat, green and bright against the collar of her white housekeeper’s uniform. The room…

Part I — The Hand She Wasn’t Supposed to Hold Emily lost one shoe running between the black cars. She did not stop for it. A man in a dark suit shouted behind her. A woman gasped. Someone’s phone swung toward her face, already recording. Ahead, beyond the velvet rope and the wall of cameras,…