Tessa nodded, opening her notebook to a page filled with dates, cross-references, and land registry numbers written in her neat, precise handwriting. The maturity and focus she displayed was breathtaking, a stark contrast to the quiet teenager who sat at my kitchen table every evening quietly picking at her dinner.

I stepped back from the window, my heart pounding with a mixture of overwhelming pride, lingering shock, and a deep, aching regret for having lived in the dark for so long. The secrecy was dangerous, and skipping school was a risk she should never have taken alone, but the courage behind her actions was unmistakable.

Moving away from the ivy-covered wall, I walked around to the front of the cottage, took a deep breath to steady my trembling hands, and climbed the worn wooden steps of the front porch. I reached out and knocked firmly on the heavy oak door, waiting for the past and the present to finally meet.