Inside the dimly lit office, Daniel sat slouched in his chair, his gaze locked on the phone screen. The video Norma had sent him played on loop, grainy but clear enough to twist the knife in his chest.
It was Andrew.
His brother. The one he had loved most, second only to his mother. The one he had dreamed of building a life alongside—dreams that now felt hollow, stripped away in a single cruel stroke.
"You should have told us what you were going through, Andrew," Daniel muttered, his voice raw, hoarse with unshed emotion.
The corners of his eyes burned red, yet he refused to let the tears fall. His grip around the phone tightened until his knuckles whitened, his jaw clenched as though holding back a scream.
"But I will never forgive those who took you from us," he whispered, every syllable venomous, an oath carved into his very soul.
