After dinner, Eli was unusually quiet, not that I blamed him. The weight of what we had uncovered—what his father had done—was suffocating. I chose not to push him, giving him the space he needed to process it all. We ate in silence, and when he excused himself to go to bed, I let him go without a word. I knew this wasn't something I could fix with a conversation. He needed time.
Once I was sure he'd fallen asleep, I moved to the living room. The dim light from the street outside cast long shadows across the floor, adding to the quiet tension hanging in the air. I pulled out my phone and settled into the couch. There was no time to waste, and I needed to make sure everything was in place. We couldn't stay here much longer—not with Gregory's scheme tightening around Eli like a noose.
