Brace
The Donovan mansion was quiet when he arrived. The staff had long since left for the evening, and the house felt too big, too hollow.
He found Alicia in the conservatory, pruning her orchids by lamplight with gentle fingers and quiet focus.
“Hi, Mom.”
She turned, surprised—and then smiled. “Brace. I didn’t expect you tonight.”
He stepped inside, shoulders heavy with the invisible weight of the last few weeks.
“I needed to see you,” he said simply.
She nodded, setting down her pruning shears. “Something tells me this isn’t just a check-in.”
Brace half-laughed, then sank into the armchair across from her. “You always know.”
She studied him. “You look tired.”
“I am tired,” he admitted. “Not just physically. Everything’s unraveling. I lost her, Mom.”
Alicia tilted her head, li
