Morning light filtered through the thinning mist, spilling gently into the bedroom.

Francesca was packing her things. Beyond a few changes of clothing, there was only Whitey, her little dog. It took her no more than a few swift, methodical movements to finish, her resolve as sharp as ever—she was leaving the Hale family.

The bedroom door clicked open, and Julian stepped inside.

Just minutes ago, he had been embroiled in an argument with his mother. ...