Aaron, the eldest by three minutes, wore the invisible armor of responsibility, always standing slightly ahead of his siblings like a shield.
Naomi, gentle, deeply feeling, clung to small comforts like lifelines in a storm.
Elias, the quietest, carried his emotions in the tightness of his shoulders and the tremor in his small hands.
They were his world.
And then Vanessa Laurent arrived.
She was elegant, composed, soft-spoken in public, the kind of woman who seemed cut from luxury, her smile the sort people trusted without realizing they’d handed over their vulnerability. Friends applauded. Society nodded. Headlines whispered romance. For a while, even Miles tried to believe happiness had returned. But beneath the polished calm, something bothered him — not loud enough to accuse, but sharp enough to haunt.
So one morning, after weeks of unease, Miles did the unthinkable.
He lied.
He kissed each child goodbye, told Vanessa he was flying out for business, climbed into his car…
