It was the kind of Texas morning that sticks to your skin—humid, heavy, and thick with rumors. At the Anthony mansion in Frisco, the silence was louder than the cicadas. Neighbors watched from behind curtains as a black SUV pulled up, and two men in suits walked to the front door. Inside, Carmelo Anthony’s parents were packing boxes, their faces pale, eyes darting between each other and the hallway, as if waiting for bad news to come knocking. Continue reading…