Mateo woke with the dawn, though sleep had never truly claimed him. The words from Jacinta’s diary still clung to him like smoke after a fire.

You will always have a place with us.

The phrase should have been a balm. Instead, it rang like a verdict, a reminder that he was tolerated, never chosen.

He rose from the couch where he had collapsed, the photo of their family lying face down on the table. His reflection in the glass windows of his penthouse looked hollow-eyed, jaw set tight. He ...