The front door slammed so hard the picture frame above the console tilted sideways. Elena didn’t flinch—she was too proud in the moment. Arms folded, jaw tight, she stood in the middle of the loft’s living room, facing the door like she was waiting for it to reopen. It didn’t. The silence that followed was too loud, too final. The kind of silence that seeps into your bones. She turned, walking back toward the kitchen, hee...

Trey twisted the key in the front door and slipped inside as quietly as he could, though the familiar creak of the hinges gave him away. Not that anyone was home—he was almost certain of that. His dad wouldn’t be back from the construction site until late evening, and Vanessa… well, she usually taught her yoga classes until five. He shut the door behind him and kicked off his sneakers, the slap of rubber against tile echo...

The soft click of the front door closing barely disturbed the stillness of the house. Ethan Shaw set his keys quietly on the granite counter, a subtle frown drawing across his brow. The late-night flight had landed earlier than expected, the drive from O’Hare smooth under the stars. He had wanted to surprise Alyssa. The house was dim, the only light a soft golden glow bleeding down the hallway from their bedroom. Ethan’s...