KROSS

I wasn’t done searching.

That truth sat heavy in my chest the entire drive home, pressing against my ribs like it wanted out. Greece had given me pieces. Names. Handwriting. Half-truths wrapped in dust and regret. But no ending. No clean answer.

And then there was my father.

Dead.

Just like that.

I wasn’t even prepared enough for that. No last conversation that fixed what we never said. Just a body that went quiet and a house that felt empty afterward.

And Sade’s mother.

A ...