Chapter 147

The conflict didn’t arrive with shouting.

It arrived with a phone call.

It was a Sunday afternoon. The children were napping—rare, synchronized silence filling the house like a gift. She was curled into the corner of the couch reading, Daniel sketching idly beside her.

His phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen and stilled.

She noticed immediately.

“Everything okay?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“It’s my dad.”

That alone shifted the air.

Daniel didn’t ...