My SUV was parked in its reserved spot, looking ordinary and safe in the dim concrete structure.

I drove out of the garage and turned north toward Highland Park.

The streets were familiar, lined with pecan trees and large, manicured lawns.

But today, everything looked different.

The wealth that had once felt like a protective shield now felt like a cage.

As I turned onto our street, I saw three news vans parked along the curb.

Several people with cameras were standing near our front gate.

I pressed the remote transmitter on my visor, and the heavy iron gates began to swing open.

The reporters surged forward, flashing their cameras through my windshield.

I kept my eyes straight ahead and drove through, waiting for the gates to click shut behind me.

I parked in the circular driveway and hurried inside the house.

The foyer was quiet and cool.

Liam and his younger brother, Toby, were sitting on the stairs.

They looked up at me with wide, anxious eyes.

I walked over and sat down on the step between them, wrapping my arms around their shoulders.