The morning after Alexander found Emily's note, Noah refused to let it out of his sight.

He carried the pink paper downstairs in both hands, carefully avoiding the folded corners. At breakfast, he placed it beside his cereal bowl.

“Is it a map?” he asked.

“I don't know yet,” Alexander said. “But we'll find out together.”

Margaret brought toast to the table. She set a plate in front of Noah without asking where he wanted to sit. He still glanced toward the doorway each time someone passed.

Alexander noticed. He had started noticing things that made him ashamed of every dinner he'd missed.

“Dad?” Noah whispered. “Can I have more strawberries?”

“You can have the whole bowl.”

“Even if Oliver wants some?”

“We can share. Nobody has to go without.”

Noah considered that answer longer than any seven-year-old should have needed to.

A car pulled into the circular driveway. Through the window, Alexander saw Victoria step out beside Oliver. They had returned for another supervised collection of belongings. Victoria's attorney was already climbing from a second car.

Daniel had arranged the visit. Alexander had agreed because he wanted the separation handled without another confrontation in front of the children.

“Stay here,” he told Noah. “Margaret's with you.”

Oliver entered first, clutching a backpack. He looked exhausted. Victoria followed, heels clicking across the marble floor.

“Alexander,” she said brightly. “I hope you've calmed down.”

“Your attorney can speak to Daniel.”

“I'm talking to my husband.”

“Not about Noah. Not in front of him.”

Oliver stared toward the breakfast room. Noah was standing by his chair, one hand pressed over Emily's note.

“Hey,” Oliver said quietly.

Noah didn't answer.

Victoria caught her son's shoulder. “We're getting your things. Don't wander.”

Oliver pulled away.

“I need my blue hoodie.”

“Then get it.”

Oliver hurried upstairs. Alexander remained in the hall while the attorneys discussed which items could be collected. Victoria watched him with a strange, appraising expression.

“You're making a terrible mistake,” she murmured.

“Then you should be relieved we're keeping records.”

Her smile vanished.

Upstairs, Oliver opened the drawer beneath his bed. The hoodie lay where he'd left it. Beneath the fabric was a battered phone with a cracked corner and no service plan.

He had found it months ago after his mother replaced her own phone. She'd told him to throw it away. Instead, he'd used it to record himself doing skateboard tricks around the house.

Once, he'd left it propped against a kitchen jar while he went to fetch his board.

The memory made his stomach hurt.

He tucked the phone into his hoodie pocket.

When he returned downstairs, Victoria was arguing with Alexander about the guesthouse keys.

“You don't get to shut me out of my own home!”

“Your attorney has the written arrangements,” Alexander said.

“You're letting that boy turn you against me.”

Noah appeared in the breakfast-room doorway. Oliver saw him flinch.

“Don't call him that,” Oliver said.

Victoria blinked. “Excuse me?”

“His name is Noah.”

“Oliver, go wait in the car.”

“No.”

The word startled everyone, including Oliver.

Victoria's voice sharpened. “You don't speak to me that way.”

“Then stop saying he's lying.”

“Enough.” She stepped toward him.

Noah moved between them before Alexander could react.

“Please don't be mad at Oliver,” he said. “He didn't do anything.”

Oliver stared at the smaller boy. For years, he'd accepted the bigger bedroom, the extra dessert, the presents that appeared whenever he asked. He'd laughed when Noah was sent away from the table. Sometimes he'd even told his mother when Noah broke a rule.

And now Noah was protecting him.

Alexander placed a steady hand on Noah's shoulder.

“Neither child is responsible for this conversation,” he said. “Victoria, it's time to go.”

Her attorney touched her elbow. She jerked away but finally turned toward the front door.

Oliver hesitated.

“Mom, can I talk to Noah?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Just a minute,” Alexander said. “With Margaret here.”

Victoria looked ready to argue, but her attorney spoke softly to her. She walked outside.

The boys sat at opposite ends of the breakfast table. Margaret remained near the open doorway.

Oliver twisted the sleeve of his hoodie.

“I didn't know about the basement,” he said.

Noah looked down. “It's okay.”

“No, it isn't.” Oliver swallowed. “I heard her say you couldn't have cake last year. I thought it was because you'd done something bad.”

“I didn't.”

“I know that now.”

Noah touched the pink note. “I used to think if I was really good, she'd like me.”

Oliver's face reddened. “She told me you were jealous of me.”

“Sometimes I was,” Noah admitted. “Not because you had stuff. Because you got to stay downstairs.”

Oliver looked at the empty chair between them. He pushed the bowl of strawberries toward Noah.

“You can have mine.”

Noah gave a small, surprised laugh. “Dad said we can share.”

Oliver almost smiled.

Outside, Victoria honked the horn.

Oliver stood. Then he reached into his pocket and put the old phone on the table, screen down.

“There's something on here,” he said.

“What kind of something?” Noah asked.

“Something I should've shown somebody a long time ago.”

Margaret approached. “Oliver, sweetheart, what is it?”

He shook his head. “I don't want Mom to know I kept it.”

Alexander returned as Oliver backed toward the hall.

“What's going on?”

Oliver glanced at Noah. “Just promise you won't get mad at him. It wasn't his fault.”

“Whatever it is,” Alexander said, “we'll handle it carefully.”

Oliver nodded and left.

Noah stared at the phone as if it might bite.

“Dad,” he whispered, “Oliver said there's a video.”

Alexander picked it up by its edges. The screen lit when he pressed the side button. The battery indicator showed four percent.

One thumbnail sat at the top of the gallery. It showed the Bennett kitchen, Victoria in profile, and a small figure backed against the refrigerator.

Alexander recognized Noah's blue school sweater.

He pressed play.

Victoria's voice filled the quiet room.

“If you tell your father what happened, I'll make sure he never believes another word you say.”

The screen went black.

The battery had died.