Jack stepped out of his car, the gravel crunching underfoot as he approached Evelyn’s house. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the overgrown yard and the peeling paint of the weather-beaten structure. He clutched the faded photograph in one hand, its edges frayed, the image of Evelyn and David staring back at him like ghosts. The house in the background of the photo was nothing like the one in front of him. It loomed in his mind like an unspoken question.

He rapped on the door sharply, his heart thudding in his chest. Inside, he could hear movement, a deliberate slowness to the sound of footsteps. When Evelyn finally opened the door, her face was an unreadable mask. The tired, hollow eyes were the same, but there was a tension in her jaw, a tightness that hadn't been there before. 

“You’re back,” she said, her voice flat. She didn’t sound surprised. 

“I need answers,” Jack said, holding up the photo. “This time, I’m not leaving without them.”

Evelyn’s gaze flicked to the photograph, and for the briefest moment, something flickered in her eyes—recognition, maybe fear. She stepped aside without a word, letting him in.

The house was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of stale smoke and something faintly metallic. Jack noted the way Evelyn moved, her steps careful, calculated, as if she were walking on thin ice. He followed her to the small, cluttered living room, where she sank into an old armchair, its fabric worn and patched. She gestured for him to sit, but he remained standing.

“What is this?” Jack demanded, holding the photograph out to her. “Where was this taken? And why do you look like you’re standing with your goddamn husband?”

Evelyn didn’t take the photo. Instead, she leaned back, crossing her arms. “You’ve been busy,” she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. “I didn’t realize you were an amateur detective on top of being a journalist.”

“Don’t deflect,” Jack snapped. “I know about the adoption. I know Crystal and David took your children. I know about Crystal's miscarriage and the hysterectomy. I know the children were the gift that he gave you. But what I don’t know is why you’ve been lying to me from the start. Why cover it up? Why keep feeding me half-truths?”

Evelyn’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? You’ve pieced together your little puzzle, and now you think you can waltz in here and demand the rest from me like it’s your right.”

“It’s not about me!” Jack shot back, his voice rising. “It’s about the truth. About those kids. About whatever the hell it is David’s been doing behind closed doors.”

At the mention of David’s name, Evelyn’s demeanor shifted. Her shoulders stiffened, and her eyes narrowed, sharp as broken glass. “You don’t get to say his name like that,” she hissed. “You don’t know him. You don’t know anything.”

Jack stepped closer, his frustration mounting. “Then tell me! Because from where I’m standing, David looks like a man who used you, who took everything from you and left you to rot.”

The slap came so fast he didn’t see it coming. Evelyn’s palm connected with his cheek, the sound ringing out like a gunshot in the small room. For a moment, they both stood frozen, the air between them crackling with tension.

“You don’t get to judge him,” Evelyn said, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and something else—grief, maybe. “You don’t know what he gave me. What he gave all of us.”

Jack pressed a hand to his cheek, his skin stinging. “Then enlighten me,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Because all I see is a man who left a trail of lies and broken lives in his wake.”

Evelyn laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. “You think you’re ready for the truth? Fine. Let me tell you about David.”

She stood, pacing the room like a caged animal, her hands trembling as she lit a cigarette. The flicker of the lighter cast fleeting shadows on her face, making her look older, more haunted.

“David wasn’t just a man,” she began, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “He was... something else. Something bigger. He had this way of making you believe in him, in his vision. He said he could change the world, and for a while, I believed him. Hell, I gave up everything for him.”

Her gaze drifted to the photograph in Jack’s hand. “That house you’re so fixated on? That was where it all started. Where he built his... following. He called it a sanctuary, a place for the lost and broken to find purpose. And I was one of them, one of his believers. But it wasn’t just faith he wanted. He needed... something more.”

Jack frowned. “What do you mean?”

Evelyn took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that hung in the air like a ghost. “He had this... gift. He could see into people, into their hearts, their fears, their desires. And he knew how to use it. He said it was a calling, that he was chosen to do something great. But it wasn’t enough to have followers. He needed to create something. Something lasting.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and she turned away, her back to Jack. “He started talking about ‘the next generation,’ about building a legacy that would outlive us all.”

Jack felt a chill crawl up his spine. “The children,” he said. “You’re talking about the children.”

Evelyn nodded, her shoulders slumping. “He said they were special. That they were meant to carry on his work. I didn’t know—” She stopped, her voice cracking. “I didn’t know what he’d done to make it happen. By the time I realized, it was too late. He’d already given them away, handed them over to Crystal like they were... like they were nothing.”

"There's two years between them," Jack stated.

She turned, looked out the window and nodded. "He convinced me that the second baby was mine. My gift for everything that I had done for him. But he took that from me too."

Jack stared at her, his mind racing. “Why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you go to the authorities?”

Evelyn turned to face him, her eyes blazing. “And say what?" She waived her cigarette at him. "Tell them that I fucked my brother because he was a visionary? There was nothing that I could say any of them that would make me sound sane. The damage was already done.”

Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. Jack didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to reconcile the broken woman in front of him with the web of secrets she had helped weave.

Finally, Evelyn spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “You want the truth, Jack? Here it is: David didn’t just take those kids from me. He took my faith, my hope, my future. And now, all I have left are the pieces he left behind.”

Jack stared at her, his chest tight. He wanted to press further, to demand more answers, but he could see that Evelyn was at her breaking point. Instead, he nodded, slipping the photograph into his pocket.

“I’ll leave you at peace,” he said quietly. 

Evelyn didn’t  immediately respond. She turned away, her silhouette outlined by the flickering light. As Jack stepped out into the night, the cool air hit him like a slap to the face. The photograph in his pocket felt heavier than it should have.

Her voice was soft. He paused with the door partly closed behind him.

"I thought killing him would free me from him, but now I'm just bound up with his ghost."