The hour was close to midnight. The snow outside was falling silently, heavily, adding layer upon layer to the fortress we inhabited. The silence of the house had become a new kind of tyranny; every soundless moment felt like a concealed threat, every quiet hallway a potential corridor of failure.

I stood by the window of the twins’ nursery, watching the perimeter lights sweep across the grounds. Ivan and Giovanni were asleep in their adjacent cots, small, perfect miracles protected by ...