Three days passed before curiosity won.
Samantha told herself it was strategic patience—waiting to see if any threats materialized, if the package's sender revealed themselves, if Nova showed any signs of distress. But really, it was fear. Fear of what the device might show them, fear of what "listening" might mean, fear that understanding their daughter better would somehow reveal they'd been failing her all along.
The device sat on Marcus's desk, unassuming and silent.
Until Nova crawled to it.
Actually crawled—another milestone achieved without warning—across the living room floor with single-minded determination, bypassing her toys, ignoring Kai's attempts to distract her with a stuffed wolf, heading straight for the study where the silver coin rested on a stack of ancient texts.
"Okay, that's new and terrifying," Kai announced, scooping her up before she could reach the doorway. Nova protested with a frustrated squeal that made the windows rattle.
Just slightly.
