Esther’s POV
The air smelled of damp stone and desperation. Maybe it was just me.
Ever since I walked out of Brenn’s warehouse, my pride burning hotter than my empty stomach, I had been spiraling. The coin I had tucked away for emergencies was nearly gone. Carl’s medicine was running low, dangerously low, and Sofia—sweet, gentle Sofia—kept asking why Mama was so tired all the time, why I kept disappearing into the streets and returning with nothing but bruised hands and a strained smile.
I wanted to lie. I wanted to curl her into my arms and whisper that everything was fine, that Mama would fix it all. But my children were clever—too clever for comfort—and Carl especially carried Nicholas’s sharp, observant eyes. When he looked at me, it was like peering into my own soul. His unspoken q
