(LIAM'S POV)
"Vincent?"
The name escaped my lips like a ghost, unfamiliar and haunting. I felt it hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning I couldn't grasp. I looked at my mother, whose face had gone pale, whose hands were trembling violently in her lap.
"Mom... who's Vincent?"
I watched my mother's throat bob as she swallowed, watched her eyes glisten with fresh tears that threatened to spill. Her lips parted, closed, parted again, as if she was fighting herself to speak the words aloud.
Dylan and Roland had gone completely still beside me. I could feel their tension, their confusion mirroring my own. I had never heard of that name before. Not once. Not in all the years I had lived in this house.
"Vincent was..." My mother's voice cracked. She pressed a hand to her mouth, as if trying to hold back a sob. "Vincent was my third child."
The world tilted.
