Chapter 4 - "DID DAD STOP WANTING US?"I stepped inside the air-conditioned house, tossing the ivory envelope onto the laminate kitchen counter while I unpacked milk and cereal.
A quiet sound made me turn around.
Noah was standing by the counter, holding the gold-trimmed card in his small hands. His thumb traced the raised gold lettering of his father's name.
"Dad's getting married?" Noah asked softly.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my voice to sound neutral. "Yes, honey. To Victoria."
Noah stared at the card for a long moment. He didn't cry. He didn't scream. Over the last two years, I had watched my energetic, laughing boy transform into a quiet observer who spoke little and watched everything.
"Are we invited?" Noah asked.
"Technically, yes," I said gently, leaning down beside him. "The invitation has both our names on it. But we don't have to go, Noah. In fact, I think it's better if we—"
"I want to go," Noah interrupted, looking up at me with dead-pan intensity.
"Noah, sweetie, it's going to be crowded and awkward, and—"
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"Please, Mom," he said, his voice dropping into a register that sounded far too old for a ten-year-old child. "I want to see Dad's new house and his new life. I want to bring him a gift."
I looked at my son's calm face, completely unaware that behind those quiet eyes was a mind that had been silently assembling a weapon for over six months.
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