Prime Avenue

It was a quiet Saturday.

The sunlight poured gently over the patio, spilling golden warmth across the white wicker chairs. Isabelle had nowhere particular to go, so she sat there with a glass of juice beside her and a script open on her lap.

Riven had gone out early for a meeting. Beside her, Aimee sat cross-legged on the tiled floor, quietly stacking colored blocks in rows.

Every so often, Isabelle peeked over the edge of her script to watch her. The little girl’s ...