Jessica’s chest heaved as she turned, trying to gather herself. Vivienne stepped forward gently. “Jess… calm down.” Then she looked at her son again, more firm now. “Gray… please. Tell us. What made you think she’s been lying to you? What exactly did you hear?” Gray’s voice was cold now. Defensive. Still wounded. His eyes darkened. She said, ‘I’m done. I’m sick and tired of pretending I care.’ Then, ‘I hate them.’ What else could that mean?” Isabel covered her mouth. “Are you sure?” she asked, stunned. “She would never say something like that. I don’t believe you.” Jessica let out a hollow, broken laugh. “You don’t know what you heard.” “I know what I heard,” Gray insisted. “You heard wrong,” she said, louder now. “You weren’t even fully awake. You were just coming back — confused,

