Jonah’s POV

The moment I step inside, the atmosphere of the house feels wrong. It carries a weight, like the walls are holding onto a secret, waiting to expose it. From the kitchen, Vivienne’s soft humming floats toward me, sweetly melodic yet unsettling. Something in that sound sets my nerves on edge.

“Jonah? How did it go?” she calls out, stepping into view with a dish towel draped across one hand. Her smile is practiced, almost unnatural. I clock the ...