The envelope sat heavy in Ava's palm. It was nothing more than paper and ink, yet it felt like it carried the weight of her entire world.
Noah hadn't moved. His silence was louder than any plea he could have spoken.
Jasper crossed his arms. "Are you going to open it, or are we just going to stand here all night?"
Ava swallowed hard. "I—" Her voice wavered.
Liam's words echoed in her mind: Before you decide who to believe, read this.
Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the paper. The handwriting was unfamiliar—sharp, deliberate strokes, as if every letter had been carved rather than written.
She scanned the first few lines.
Then her breath stopped.
Noah stepped closer. "Ava?"
Her grip on the paper tightened. "You lied to me."
His expression darkened. "It's not that simple."
Jasper's gaze flicked between them. "What does it say?"
Ava forced the words out, her voice hollow. "It's a letter. From someone who was there that night." She turned the paper, her vision blurring at the name signed at the bottom.
Noah's reaction was instant. His face paled. His hands clenched at his sides.
Jasper frowned. "What? Who wrote it?"
Ava's pulse pounded as she read the name aloud.
"Dorian Hale."
Silence.
Then—Noah exhaled shakily. "He's dead."
Ava lifted her gaze. "Then how did he write this letter?"
The night felt colder, the air too thin to breathe.
Noah took a slow, measured step forward. His voice was low, almost desperate. "Ava, listen to me. You don't understand what you're holding."
She took a step back. "Then explain it to me."
Noah hesitated.
And in that moment, she knew—he could explain it.
He just didn't want to.