My face was on magazine covers. I shook hands at conferences, smiled beside cars I barely drove, and stood in front of houses that looked perfect in photos but never really felt like home. On paper, I was the man who had everything. But when I closed my bedroom door at night, there was only one thing left: the empty space where my son, Lorenzo, should have been. He disappeared a year ago. One quiet afternoon he was playing near the little red swing in our yard. The next moment, the yard was empt