Maxwell’s POV

The papers lay scattered across the floor like fallen leaves. I crouched to gather them, my hands moving faster than my mind, as though if I stacked them neatly again, the world itself would fall back into order. But no matter how I smoothed the creases, the words felt thinner each time I read them. Ink and promises against something that didn’t belong in any courtroom.

The lamp was dead, Amelia stood pale by the window, and the only sound in the room was the scratch of ...