Her eyes—brighter than mine ever were—are open. Still wide. Still shocked. Still... accusing.
“Mom.”
It barely makes it out. A whisper. Cracked in two.
Her chest jerks. Once.
Her eyelids flutter like she’s trying to stay awake.
But I see it.
The moment she stops.
The moment the light in her eyes fades just slightly. Enough to know she’s not trying anymore.
She’s gone.
“What is it, Grant?”
Corrine’s voice comes from the side hall.
I turn my head so fast I almost lose balance. She sees me—just the look on my face—and her smile drops instantly.
“What—” she starts.
But she doesn’t finish.
Her eyes follow mine. Over the railing. Down.
And the scream that comes from her splits the air in half.
It’s raw. Gut-deep. Horrified.
My dad barrels out of his study seconds later, doors slamming open so hard they bounce back on their hinges.
“What’s happened?” he shouts, voice like a blade.
His eyes scan everything—Corrine. Me. The landing.
And then he sees her.
The noise that leaves him... I’ll never forget it.
It’s not just pain—it’s undoing. A sound like someone being torn apart from the inside.
He stumbles across the foyer, dropping to his knees in the blood forming around her like a halo.
“Sylvia,” he breathes, trembling as he presses a hand to her forehead, lowering himself to her body, breaking.
“Sylvia,” he says again, and then he just sobs. Wracked, broken sobs.
I don’t move.
I should.
I should go back to my room.
I should do something—anything. I’m standing right over where she fell. Right over the edge she must’ve hit.
