Julian had convinced himself he could hold the world together with silence. That if he simply straightened his tie, smoothed his papers, and kept his head down, no one would see the cracks. The morning after the supply closet felt like moving through glass—every step deliberate, every breath sharp enough to cut. Amelia’s perfume still clung to his shirt even after he’d stuffed it in the back of his closet, washed twice.But the email waiting in his inbox told him otherwise.

Subject: URGENT ...