Marcus thought about Marsh’s practised warmth—decades of it. He thought about Catherine’s grief-shaped manipulation. He thought about a dog who had seen through all of it and simply loved anyway. He thought about what it cost the dog.
The program launched in March. Vasquez’s name was on the building. Wren’s framework was the research foundation. Marcus attended the opening quietly, standing at the back. He watched Wren at the podium—dressed as always, too plain for the occasion, cataloguing the room with those quick green eyes.