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“For what?”

“For you to survive this.”

That lands like a punch.

“I never wanted this for you, Storm. I thought I could manage the mess. I thought I could outplay them.” He looks around theroom like he’s seeing ghosts. “But I was wrong. And now…now I just want your mother to be safe. I want you to be free.”

Free?

That word doesn’t exist in our world. Not when you’re a Sandoval.

“You’re not going to be able to come back from this, are you?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer.

“What happened? How did things get like this?” I ask.

For the first time in my life, my dad looks like he’s going to cry. His face jerks, tenses and relaxes. But then he sucks in a deep breath, straightens his back, and faces me with the confidence he’s had my entire life.

“I trusted the wrong people. I believed that even in the darkness, most humans still have a shred of decency within them. But I was wrong. There are bad people, and then there’s pure evil.”

He moves toward me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“You were always meant to build something better than this. Be better than me. I see that now.”

Something unravels in my chest. I can’t even speak. I just nod.

Then my mother’s voice echoes from the foyer, sharp and sweet. “Charles, are you ready?”

Dad squeezes my shoulder once before turning to gather his coat.

As we walk out together, he leans in close and whispers, “Protect her and protect yourself.”

I know who he means.

My father and I leave the office, and he closes the door on the mess as if leaving at the end of a regular workday. No one would know that behind the oak door, my father’s entire life is upended onto the floor.

“Storm.” My mom’s soft hand lands on my forearm, and I face her, noticing my father move out to the car in my peripheral vision.

“You’ll call me when you land wherever you go, right?” I ask. My nose burns—my face burns.

When my mom runs her thumb against my cheek, sliding wetness under my eye, I realize thatfuck—I’m crying.

“You’re going to be okay, baby. Everything is going to be okay.” She smiles again, and this time she pulls me down to her level and places a kiss on my forehead. The roles finally reversed.

When I straighten, she wipes my face one more time before saying, “Walk me to the door?”

I do just that.

My father doesn’t wait around to say goodbye. After the bags are all loaded, he slides into the driver’s seat and faces forward, waiting for my mother to get in on her side.

“I’ll reach out when I can,” she whispers, and with one final hug, she gets into the Maybach. From the window, she waves to me, finally smiling again as my father leans over to give her a quick kiss before starting the vehicle.

She looks at peace. She looks like she still believes in him. Maybe that’s all that matters now.

I stand right outside the front door and watch as they reach the edge of the drive. The sun is up now, light spilling across the lawn, painting everything gold.

The car pulls forward, making it almost to the end of the driveway. I take one step, then another, following their departure.