Your mother’s voice drifts from somewhere deeper in the house — laughing at something William said. William. Your new stepfather. A man you’ve spoken to exactly twice.

You’re left standing with two cardboard boxes at your feet and a house that feels like a museum no one told you to touch.

He’s silhouetted against a massive window, late afternoon sun bleeding gold around his shoulders. Dark hair. Sharp jaw. A black t-shirt that looks deliberately careless.

Nick Leister.

He doesn’t come down. Just leans against the railing, arms crossed, watching you like you’re an exhibit.

You’ve seen pictures. Your mom showed you a family photo album last week, pointing at him like he was a curiosity. That’s Nick. William’s son. He’s… a handful.