The voicemail turned out to be nothing, a wrong number from a Swiss pharmacy confirming a prescription refill for someone named Kellermann, close enough to his own name to explain the confusion but nothing more. Kellan listened to it twice, felt something loosen in his chest that he hadn't realized was still coiled tight with dread, and let it go. Whatever else remained unresolved about his family's history, that particular thread had simply run out, and for the first time in two exhausting weeks, he let himself feel relief instead of hunting for one more hidden layer beneath it."Nothing," he told Reginald, setting the phone down. "A wrong number. That's the end of it."Reginald studied him a moment, something like quiet approval in his tired expression. "Good," he said simply, and Kellan understood he meant it in more ways than one.By the following week, the frantic urgency of the previous days had finally begun to settle into something more sustainable, Meridian's dissolution proc