Not Marcus.

Not betrayal.

Not the endless exhausting labor of proving myself to a man who had decided long ago not to see me.

Just this: a kind man on his knees for a four-year-old, and a future with no room in it for the person asking me to save him.

“Get a lawyer,” I told Marcus.

“I need someone who understands the records.” “You should have thought about that before falsifying them.” His jaw tightened.

“You’re destroying me.” “No, Marcus.” I stepped closer, so he would hear it clearly.