But before another word could be spoken, the front door burst open and Harold Bennett, their elderly neighbor, rushed in breathlessly, eyes wide with fury and something close to guilt.
“Daniel, you need to hear the truth,” he said, removing his hat with trembling hands. “You need to know what’s been happening here… and who’s been helping her.”
Rebecca paled.
The story unraveled like a nightmare finally dragged into daylight. Harold revealed months of mistreatment, neglect, coldness disguised as “discipline.” Neighbors had heard Lena crying. Social services had even tried to investigate, but Rebecca blocked them. And then came the devastating revelation — the frequent secret visitor entering the back door when Daniel was away. A man. Not just any man. Someone who yelled at Lena, someone who claimed Daniel wasn’t coming back, someone who insisted the house would be theirs soon.
Daniel turned to Rebecca, his voice deadly calm.
“Who was he?”
For a long time she stayed silent. Then, slowly, shamefully, miserably, she whispered:
“My older brother… Patrick.”
The room spun. Daniel had met Patrick. Trusted him. Let him stay over once. Never imagined the danger in his own extended family.
Lena’s voice cracked the silence again.
