The Hughes Gardens were steeped in tranquil elegance, the kind of stillness that rendered every sound amplified and oddly deliberate.

Three yards from the living room, Jasmine could already hear Stanley’s low, measured voice, weighted with gravity.

“Helen, I’m going to ask you again. Is what you just said the truth?”

Jasmine froze mid-step, her breath catching in her throat. She stood there, waiting—praying—for her daughter to ...