reportedly stared at the screen without speaking for nearly an hour.
Then he asked only one question.
“Did Adrian know?”
When Vivian told me that, I almost smiled.
Because after a lifetime of not seeing me—
he finally understood the one truth that mattered.
I had seen everything.
Three nights later, I went to the hospital.
Not because they asked.
Because I needed to know whether closure was real or just another lie people tell themselves when pain becomes exhausting.
Malcolm Kane looked smaller in a hospital bed.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not weak.
Just smaller.
As though power had been the only thing keeping his body upright all those years, and now that illusion had been stripped away, there was less of him left than anyone expected.
His eyes opened when I entered.
For several seconds, he only stared.
Not at the tailored
I turned eighteen on a Tuesday. No cake. No card. Not even a half-hearted “happy birthday.” Just my father sitting at the kitchen table, his wife stirring sugar into her mug, and my stepbrother leaning back in his chair with that look people get when they already know how the story ends.
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