At first, I wanted to dismiss it as a child misunderstanding something—but the look in his eyes stopped me cold. Real fear. The kind kids don’t know how to fake. And the truth was, Daniel had been acting off for months—hushed phone calls, unexplained trips, moods that snapped without warning. I kept telling myself it was just work pressure. But standing there in Terminal B, a chill settled beneath my skin.

I crouched down and asked Evan to repeat exactly what he heard. His voice shook as he explained in fragments: Daddy whispering in the garage… talking about “getting rid of the problem”… saying we “wouldn’t be around to ruin everything.” Evan had woken up early, looking for his toy truck, and overheard the entire conversation.

My heartbeat thundered so loudly it drowned out everything else.

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