I had imagined this moment a thousand different ways.
In some versions, Adam screamed. In others, he begged. Sometimes he went quiet in that hollow, terrifying way that meant something inside him had shattered beyond repair.
I had rehearsed the angle of my smile, the tilt of my head, the exact cadence of my voice when I finally told him the truth.
But reality?
Reality tasted better.
I watched it happen from the bed, watched comprehension ripple through the room like a slow-moving plague. Disbelief first. Then hurt. Then something darker, something rawer, carving its way into Adam's face as if an unseen hand was peeling him open layer by layer.
His brothers looked no better.
Noah's fury faltered, confusion edging into his glare. Daniel's confidence cracked, eyes flicking between Adam and me as if he were trying to force the pieces to fit.
