Chapter 2Ryan sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His mouth tasted like ash and regret, and his memory of the previous night was full of gaps he was not sure he wanted to fill.The woman was awake now. She sat against the headboard with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped loosely around them, watching him with an expression that was hard to name. Not angry. Not embarrassed. Something closer to resignation.Ryan swallowed hard and turned to face her."Look... I don't know exactly what happened last night. But whatever it was, I take full responsibility." His voice was rough, still heavy from the whiskey. "You can ask me for anything. Anything at all. I'll make it right."She studied him for a long moment. Her eyes were dark and still, like deep water."You don't even know my name," she observed quietly."No. I don't." He dropped his gaze. "And I'm sorry for that.""Olivia." Her tone was flat, almost clinical. "Olivia Sinclair.""Ryan

Chapter 4Ryan pulled into the driveway of the Palmer estate just before sunset. The house was a two story colonial with white columns and a wraparound porch, paid for entirely by Richard Palmer's construction empire. Ryan had lived here for ten years, but it had never truly felt like his home.Through the front window, he could see the warm glow of lamps and the flicker of the television. His mother in law was sitting on the couch with Lily on her lap, reading from a picture book. Richard stood near the kitchen doorway with a glass of bourbon, laughing at something on his phone.It looked like a perfect family scene. The kind of image you would put on a holiday card.Ryan sat in the car for a full minute, gripping the steering wheel. His chest ached with a feeling he could not quite name. Love. Grief. Rage. All of it twisted together so tightly he could not separate one from the other.Those girls are not your blood. You know that now. But they don't know it. They still think you're

Chapter 6 Ryan drove for over an hour without any destination in mind. Through downtown Westfield, past the old university campus where he first met Jessica, along the interstate for twenty miles before looping back. The city lights blurred through the windshield and his mind was a mess of anger and grief and something that almost felt like relief. By the time he pulled off the highway, it was nearly midnight. He needed a place to stay. Not a hotel. Something more permanent. Somewhere he could think clearly and figure out his next move. He found himself driving through the Parkview Estates compound on the east side of the city. Tall buildings with glass facades and underground parking. Expensive. Private. The kind of place where nobody asked questions about who you were or why you looked like you had not slept in three days. The leasing office was closed, but there was a night manager on duty. Ryan walked in and asked what was available. "We have a two bedroom on the twenty secon

Chapter 8 The old chapel sat at the edge of Ridgewood on a small hill overlooking the river. Half of the east wall was already torn down, and the front entrance was blocked by construction barriers and piles of rubble. Behind the building, near the tree line that led up to the higher ground, a group of men had gathered around a massive stone statue that had been carefully removed from the chapel's courtyard. Ryan's father spotted him first. "Ryan! Get over here!" Tom Mitchell was a broad chested man in his mid sixties with thick arms and a sunburned face. He waved his son over with a grin. "Perfect timing. We need one more body." "For what?" "The Guardian Angel." Tom pointed at the statue. It stood over eight feet tall, carved from solid granite, with wide wings and outstretched hands. The face was weathered smooth from decades of rain and wind, and the base was cracked from the demolition work. "We're moving it to the new site up on the hilltop behind the church. Reverend Collin