Page 152 of When the Storm Breaks

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The TV’s on, volume low—barely there—until two words cut through the silence and nearly knock me out of my seat.

Juliette Sinclair.

My head snaps up. I move toward the screen before I even realize I’m doing it.

The room fades as I lock onto the broadcast, trying to convince myself I misheard.

But then I see it—

The headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen:

Jane Doe identified as Juliette Sinclair.

My body goes utterly still.

For a second, I can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t breathe.

But before the shock can settle, my dad reaches for the remote. His hand fumbles—scrambling for the power button.

Too fast. Too forceful.

At first, I think it’s grief. First Willow. Now Jules.

My parents loved her. They loved their friendship—how she was always around, always part of the family.

Until Willow died. Then everything went to shit.

But something about my dad’s reaction isn’t right. It’s not shock. It’s not sadness. It’s control.

The TV cuts off, leaving the room in total silence.

I turn to him, frowning, my voice unsure. “Dad, stop. That wasJules.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Too casual. Too dismissive.

My lungs tighten.

I reach for the remote—needing to confirm what I saw. Needing to prove I’m not imagining this. That someone else isn’t dead.

But the second my fingers touch it, he pulls it back.

I lunge, gripping, twisting, yanking—just let me turn it back on.

I don’t even realize how desperate I am until his grip gives. Until he lets go. Until he shakes his head—slow, dismissive—like this is some kind of game.

Like I’m wasting his time.

I slam my thumb into the power button, desperate to get the screen back.

After a few achingly long seconds, the TV buzzes back to life. A newscaster’s voice cuts through the air, mid-sentence—

“... was discovered just beyond a bend near Lake Crest’s northern edge.”

I freeze.

The lake.

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